


Divulgence

by mousesprings



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime)
Genre: Backstory, Childhood Memories, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mild Language, i edit the tags a lot im sorry, not beta read we die like men, snuf and moomin are a couple in this but it's not a super important detail
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-02-27 08:13:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18735106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousesprings/pseuds/mousesprings
Summary: Moomintroll starts to take notice on how strangely Snufkin acts whenever the Mymble comes to visit. Unbeknownst to him, there is still quite a bit he doesn't know about his companion.





	1. Prologue: Herring

**Author's Note:**

> me submitting my fuckin THIRD moomin fic: “heheehehaeeheha me love moomins” 
> 
> however unlike the other ones this is gonna have an actual story and chapters to it. be prepared to not be so surprised at the end of this prologue (yes it's a prologue. why doesn't ao3 have a prologue option....) 
> 
> get prepared to see baby snufkin in future chapters (not in this one sadly). this fic is more or less based on how i personally hc snufkin's childhood and it's...not really that ideal, just a head's up. it has a few elements that has been said in canon but isn't on par with it like at all. like in the books everyone finds out about snufkin's parents because moominpappa just tells them, whereas that's not the case here as you'll see. and if moominvalley ever comes out with their own version of it, most likely not with that either. 
> 
> this isn't canon ok, mom says it's my turn to play with the moomins canon.  
> but yes, hope you enjoy!~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is...probably a dumb question, but I will kick myself if I don’t ask.” Moomintroll rhythmically patted his knees. “How come you always vanish when the Mymble visits?”
> 
> Snufkin stiffened and turned to face him. “...What?”

Moominmamma stood on the front porch, humming to herself as she swept away at the mess left behind yesterday by the Mymble's little tykes, on the Mymble's fourth visit of the month. Moomintroll sat on the bridge, watching her and feeling quite pensive. 

It was yet another lazy summer afternoon. With not much stones to do anything worthwhile, Moomintroll had spent all week hanging out on the bridge with Snufkin; whom seemed to be the perfect candidate to spend lazy afternoons with. He had once considered enriching himself by fishing alongside him, but it seemed more vastly entertaining to just watch him and be in comfortable silence. 

There was something on Moomintroll’s mind; something he was unsure if Snufkin could pick up. There had yet to be words exchanged between them, their relationship coming to the point where they can just meet each other at the bridge and spend the whole day together, with no actual words for a good couple of hours. Moomintroll let his eyes drift to the glistening water below his dangling legs, the gleam of the fishing line piercing his vision, but curious at the pearly streams of herrings swimming by. His ears picked up straw scraping on wood, and he glanced up to find Moominmamma had picked up a particularly hard patch of mess on the porch. 

The more he stared, the more his thoughts started to plague him. He became so distracted that he was promptly startled back to the world by a buzz of insect wings in his ear. He lurched forward, preparing to meet icy cold water on his coat, before being rescued by a firm tug on his shoulder. “Careful there!” Snufkin hauled him back. “Are you alright?”

Moomintroll batted at his ear. “Ngh, yeah,” he wheezed. He shook his head wildly. “Damned mosquitos.”

“Don’t swear,” Snufkin said as he fed his line back into the water. 

Moomintroll tutted warmly and sat up straight. He eyed the fishing line and watched for the awaited underwater tug. When nothing occurred for a few more minutes, he decided to cave into his thoughts. “Hey, Snufkin. Can I ask you something?” 

His companion confirmed with a nod, not taking his eyes from the water. 

“This is...probably a dumb question, but I will kick myself if I don’t ask.” Moomintroll rhythmically patted his knees. “How come you always vanish when the Mymble visits?” 

Snufkin stiffened and turned to face him. “...What?” 

“Well,” he began nervously. “It’s just that - she visited yesterday and you were nowhere to be seen when I tried looking for you, and same with the three other times she visited us. It’s probably just a coincidence but...it’s just strange, s’all.” 

Snufkin replied quickly, “Well, she does have a lot of children, and they tend to be quite destructive when unattended to - believe me, I know that.” Moomintroll knew he was referring to the time he had temporarily adopted a platoon of woodies, but there was also some unusual tone vaguely tinged in his voice. 

Was it anger? “And I just want to be out of the way when the children start running loose,” he continued. “I don’t want to be dealing with any of that.”

“Oh yes.” Moomintroll nodded. “But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you and the Mymble in the same - well, _proximity_. She is nice, you should come to the house sometime when she visits. Have you even met her before?” 

“Of course I’ve met her. Hasn’t everyone?” Snufkin responded a bit too icily. He cleared his throat, already regretting his decision to snap, and conveniently his line began to tug. He jumped to his feet as he yanked a herring from the water and dropped it to the small fishing bucket next to him. 

Moomintroll was quite taken aback, but his throat was thick with the urge to apologise. He did not wish to pry into Snufkin’s personal affairs - perhaps the reason was no deeper than simply wanting to be away from the Mymble’s children. He could respect that - relate to it, even. Snufkin picked up his bucket, which had grown heavy from a school of dried up fish. “I’m going to go prepare these,” he said. “Want to come help?” 

“Oh, sure.” Moomintroll stood up and followed as they walked to the edge of the stream where Snufkin’s tent perched. At the back of his mind he knew Snufkin was trying to create a distraction so he would stop asking questions; he had poorly disguised his anger when he brought up the Mymble. Admittedly, it did make him curious, but Moomintroll decided to let it go. 

If Snufkin didn’t want to talk about it, then he didn’t have to. 

\--

“I apologise for snapping at you earlier,” said Snufkin as he tossed sprinklings of cut up fish into the boiling pot.

“Hrm? Oh, I forgot all about that.” It had actually been all Moomintroll could think about for the past hour. “Don’t worry about it.” 

After what felt like forever of scorching sunlight, the sun was finally dipping beneath the horizon, and a canvas of reds and deep oranges were bleeding into the cloudless sky and casting long shadows around the valley. Spending the afternoon preparing fish with Snufkin would usually breeze by for Moomintroll, but today it seemed to be dragging by at an agonising rate. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe Moomintroll could not stop being pensive. 

“I definitely would not be able to do this if the children were out and about,” muttered Snufkin after a pause. “They’ll smell something cooking and come running.” 

“Yeah, that’s true.” Moomintroll smiled. He poked the log fire with a stick and dribbled the contents of the stew with more fish pieces. “I do sometimes wonder how she handles the lot of them. Raising so many children must be difficult.”

“Hrm.” Snufkin poked inside his tent to retrieve something. Moomintroll watched after him, and then quickly turned away as he reemerged with a small felt bag of coffee beans. 

“But I suppose you would know what that’s like,” he said as Snufkin poured the beans into the pot. “Those woodies you had seemed like a handful.”

Snufkin seemed uncomfortable with the conversation but gave a response anyway, “They were drawn to me anyway, so I didn’t have much choice. But I think I did good enough for them, they all stayed put and had their own fair share of food.” He stroked along the small bag and tossed it very deliberately to the rim of the pot. “I did a lot better than _she_ ever-…”

He caught himself on time, realising how unsuccessful he was on very quietly muttering that last part. He paused and then shook his head, poking the contents of the pot with a spoon. Moomintroll leaned in close. “Than who ever what?” he asked.

“Huh? What?” Snufkin looked at him with feigned obliviousness. 

“Who’s this _she_? Do you mean the Mym-”

“Nobody. I didn’t say anything.” Snufkin prodded with the spoon more aggressively and then promptly let go of it. “Anyway, I think I can take the rest from here. You should go home now.”

“Wait, what?” Moomintroll stood up as Snufkin began ushering him away. “D-Don’t you still need help? I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, you have dinner to go to. I’ll be fine, trust me. Thanks for the help!” Snufkin gripped him by the cheeks and kissed him on the snout. “Love you. Bye!” 

He then turned and burrowed inside his tent, going completely against his intentions of shooing Moomintroll away. But regardless he never looked back, and Moomintroll was alone. 

\--

Moomintroll returned home feeling very strange. 

Dinner was readily presented on the table, and unfortunately as irresistible as Mamma’s cooking was, he could not do more than poke at his food with his fork. He was aware of Little My giving him a weird look from across the table. Had she always lived here uninvited? 

“Moomintroll dear, is everything alright?” asked Moominmamma. “You’ve hardly touched your food.” 

“Did Snufkin break up with you?” Little My sneered. 

Moomintroll glared at her. “Shut up.” He cast a look to his mother. “I’m fine, Mamma. It’s just the heat, I suppose.”

Little My rested her chin on her palm. “Can’t help but notice you didn’t deny it.”

“He hasn’t!” he protested. 

Moominmamma picked up a slice of bread from the wicker basket and applied butter to it. “Well, whatever is going through your mind, we will always be here to help you out once you’re ready,” she said. 

Moomintroll smiled at her. The Booble bless his mother. 

Suddenly black smoke emitted from the kitchen followed by throaty coughing. All members of the table turned as Moominpappa ambled into the room, his coat largely flecked with black. “Well, don’t know how those children managed to mess up the oven settings.” He took his seat with a sigh and plucked out a bread slice. “But I managed to fix it.”

“As always, dear.” Moominmamma handed him the stick of butter. “Butter?” 

“Ooh yes.” He took it from her and dug his knife into it. 

Moomintroll looked at his father with intrigue. He wasn’t sure how well Moominpappa knew the Mymble, but curiosity was biting him like an adder. “Erm, Pappa…” he began. “Do you know if the Mymble has done anything...bad?” 

Moominpappa paused in his buttering and blinked at him. “That’s an odd question,” he commented. “Why are you asking this?”

“I-I don’t know.” Moomintroll fidgeted. “I mean, no one can be _wholly_ good inside, right?”

“Wise words,” mused Moominmamma. 

“Hmm…” Moominpappa leaned back in his chair and thought for a bit. “Well, taking into account what you just said, I guess she must have at some point. She does raise her children in a peculiar way but that’s just how she comes about things, I suppose. It cannot be too damning.”

Little My bristled. “Also why are you asking this about my mother?”

Moomintroll almost forgot. “Well, how _you_ are must have come from somewhere.” 

“Drop dead.” 

Moominmamma regarded him with a worried frown. “Is this what has been going through your mind, dear?” she asked. 

He fumbled a bit before responding, “Oh...yeah, I suppose so. I’ve been... thinking about it since yesterday.” 

“My siblings didn’t _mean_ to shred up your bedsheet,” said Little My.

“I had to sleep without it for the whole of last night!” Moomintroll argued.

\--

Moomintroll was more than thankful his family had a great stash of bedsheets in a secret compartment of the house - just in case an occasion exactly like that were to happen. 

His moonlit bedroom was illuminated up by a single candlelight at his bedside table; the quarter moon barely bestowing him with enough so that he could read his book on _Secrets and how to keep them_ borrowed from his father’s office. However the book was bursting at the seams with convoluted sentences and elongated words and he had been trying to read the second paragraph for the past fifteen minutes. 

Finally giving up he dropped the book at his knees and pawed at his eyes, feeling a headache coming in. Sleep was enticing him, but he was kept awake by his thoughts that seemed louder than they were before. What did the Mymble ever do that upset Snufkin so much that he now actively avoided her? Should he ask the Mymble herself? No, there would be absolutely no polite introduction to that. Shouldn’t he have brought her up to him in the first place? Maybe. 

But what had _happened_?

His bedroom door creaked open and in walked Moominmamma, holding a plated lit candle. “Would you like another candle, dear?” she asked. 

“No thanks.” Moomintroll sighed, dumping the book on his bedside. “I...think I’ll just go to sleep now.” 

“Well then.” She placed the candle on top of a shelf and walked to the side of his bed to nuzzle him between the ears. “Goodnight.” 

She turned and walked for the exit. Moomintroll watched frantically, knowing he only had a limited amount of time. Finally he reached out, “Actually, wait a moment!” 

Moominmamma stopped and turned around, her dim green eyes round with concern and love for him. “Do…” Moomintroll looked down at his feet. “Do you know if the Mymble did anything bad?” 

His mother paused, seemingly searching him with her eyes, and then sighed. She pushed the door shut with her foot. “Moomintroll, is something else going on here?” she pressed. “Did anything from yesterday particularly upset you?” 

“No! It’s just…” Moomintroll hesitated. He did not want to jeopardise the conversation he had had with Snufkin, just in case it was something that should only have been between the two of them. He knew how secretive Snufkin could be. But there was only one individual in Moominvalley who knew best. “...Could you promise not to tell anyone about this?” 

Moominmamma nodded and sat at the foot of his bed, patiently willing him to elaborate. Moomintroll took a deep breath and asked, “Do you know where Snufkin was yesterday?” 

She blinked. “...No. I don’t think I saw him at all yesterday.” 

“Do you know why he was gone?” 

“Well, _you_ should know that more than the rest of us, dear. He’s not the one to stay in one place for too long, isn’t he?” 

“Do you think he may have vanished because of the Mymble?”

Moominmamma didn’t say anything for a good couple of seconds. “What are you talking about?” 

“Do you know if the Mymble ever did anything to hurt Snufkin?” Moomintroll felt absolutely bad to have asked this but it was also a big relief. “He doesn’t seem to like her, and I don’t know why. I know it could be because of the many children she has but… I think it may be because of something else.” 

He expected a short, simple answer from his mother. Maybe she herself didn’t know, and the reason why Snufkin felt this way towards the Mymble would always be shrouded in mystery. But Moominmamma was frowning greatly and her ears were flat against her head. “Well...like I said, you should know that, dear,” she eventually said. 

Moomintroll blinked. “Huh? Know what?” 

“You should know about the Mymble and Snufkin and…” Moominmamma’s eyes widened. “He… He told you, didn’t he?” 

Moomintroll could feel his chest sinking. “Told me what..?” 

“Oh dear.” She stood up and dusted her paws on her apron with excession. “Oh… ah, sorry. I’ll be right back.” 

“Wait! What was he supposed to-” The door slammed shut. “Tell me..?” 

Moomintroll brought his knees up to his chest, silently swearing to himself. He probably should have just neglected saying anything, but now it seemed he knew less of the situation than he thought he did. What was happening? Was Mamma going to tell something? Was she going to tell Snufkin? He felt hollow with shame. 

After what felt like forever, the door finally jarred open again. Moominmamma slipped back inside, shadowed closely by Moominpappa. Moomintroll immediately objected to this, “Mamma, I told you not to tell any-” 

“You mean to tell me you don’t know about Snufkin and the Mymble?” Moominpappa probed. “Like - Snufkin never told you?”

Moomintroll flattened his ears. “N...No?” 

Moominmamma gave her husband a gloomy look. “He’s probably too ashamed, dear.” 

“Too ashamed of what?” he demanded, growing increasingly frustrated. “Can someone tell me what’s going on here?”

“Don’t shout,” sighed Moominmamma. 

Moomintroll made a grouchy noise but took a deep breath anyway and spoke in a lower voice, “What’s going on?” 

His parents exchanged a look, egging the other to be the one to tell. At last Moominpappa took the lead and walked closer to the side of the bed, Moominmamma following behind. 

“Moomintroll,” said Moominpappa. “Did Snufkin ever once talk to you about his family?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Moomintroll answered. “He never brings them up and-... Wait, what does this have to do with the Mymble?" He got no answer, and the lack of which only made his eyes widen as it finally dawned. "Do you mean-" 

His father finished for him, “Yes. The Mymble is Snufkin’s mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (pretends to be shocked)  
> that was such a shoddy plot twist i am so sorry
> 
> hopefully more coming soon! i wrote this whole prologue in 1 day in only 2 sittings. writing is great. i can’t feel my skin.
> 
> also feeling a bit courageous soooo my tumblr is @dogrocks if you wanna talk moomins with me or something ;)


	2. Betta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a pause. A robin sang a tune in the nearby distance, and a small party of bees were gathering in the collection of chamomiles beside the river. Moomintroll felt like he was going to explode. “Snufkin, is the Mymble your mother?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah shit. here we go again.  
> this chapter had already been written and i was gonna wait a week but i decided to just let it out the way. also the flashback was originally going to start in this chapter but it got too long so i had to push it back to the next one. sorry if you were waiting for baby snuf. he'll be in the next one i promise. 
> 
> hope you enjoy! and thanks to the lovely people who gave support on the previous chapter! <:3

His father finished for him, “Yes. The Mymble is Snufkin’s mother.” 

Moomintroll sat there in complete awe, searching for any signs of exaggeration or even a joke in his parents, but both stood beside him with complete solemnity. As he finally tried to speak, he ended up spluttering, his throat becoming clogged upon the great reveal. 

“How...do you know this?” he asked. 

Moominmamma responded, “We’ve known Snufkin since he was a very young kit; he would always be brought along when the Mymble would visit us many years ago. For a good while, he was one of hers.” 

“You knew all along? How come I’m _just_ finding out about this?” 

“We never assumed Snufkin would be coming _back_ to Moominvalley as an adult,” stated Moominpappa. “And even then, we thought Snufkin would just tell you when he was ready. We didn’t want to intrude on business that isn’t ours - as you can probably tell, he didn’t really have the best upbringing” 

Just as Moomintroll was about to cry out a response he was hit with a realisation. So many were striking him, but this was the most vocal. “Wait, so. Snufkin and Little My… they’re brother and sister?” 

“Yes, but also not quite,” Moominpappa informed. “Both of them share the Mymble as their mother, but they have a different father.” 

“And who are their fathers?” Moomintroll prompted. 

His father sighed. So many questions. “We don’t know who Little My’s father is,” he said. “But I do have a strong theory that Snufkin’s father was an old friend of mine. Do you remember me reading to you my memoirs when I had embarked across the seas on the Oshun Oxtra with a crew? That one crew member I always described to be lazy and worry-free: the Joxter?” 

Moomintroll thought for a couple of seconds, trying to place if _the Joxter_ rang any bells. It took some effort, but he could finally taste the name from old retelling when he was very young. As far as he could remember, he recalled Moominpappa detailing about the Joxter as also having a strong hate for authority figures and had apparently lost his family to a feud with park keepers. 

“So… the Joxter is Snufkin’s father?”

“I am not completely certain on this,” said Moominpappa. “I haven’t seen him since before I met your mother. But he does have an incredibly uncanny resemblance to him, so I believe it’s safe to say…”

Before any more words could be thrown, Moominmamma’s paw met the top of Moomintroll’s head. He met eyes with her, knowing how surprised and downright confused he must have looked. “Look,” she murmured. “It’s late and we’re all tired. Please get some sleep now, and I’m sure we will answer any more questions you may have tomorrow.” 

He knew better than to retort back with stubborn defiance. “...Alright.” He rubbed at his aching face. “Goodnight, then.”

One by one his parents turned to leave the room. Moominpappa walked out, and Moominmamma stood by the doorway to look back. “Also, I’m sorry for breaking my promise, dear,” she said. “But your father does know more of this than I do.” 

Moomintroll confirmed his acceptance with a nod and Moominmamma took the candle from the shelf as she closed the door behind her. He turned over to pinch away the candlelight, now coating the room in total darkness, and tried to settle into bed. But unfortunately, despite how tired he was, sleep did not come for a very long time.

\--

The morning that followed was quiet. That was to be expected on a hazy hot summer, but Moomintroll now knew the real tension in the air. He looked over at the teapot Little My was still resting within and knew he would never view her the same way again. Because somehow, there was a little bit of Snufkin in her - _Snufkin_ of all creatures. Did she know? Did Snufkin know? They looked nothing alike and yet they were also so similar at the same time. It was bizarre.

Moomintroll tiredly scrubbed at his eyes. Maybe he was being too dramatic.

Regardless he tried to remain optimistic for the morning; whatever boiling questions he had just not wanting to leave his tongue. He wondered if he just wanted to get his answers from a different source, from the one person who would know about it way more than Moominpappa did.

Moomintroll walked outside and found Snufkin by his tent, stirring a pot that oozed the strong scent of coffee. He approached with caution, wary of how Snufkin would address him now after accounting their odd conversation from the day before. But he was earned with a warm smile from his partner, and which briefly relaxed him. 

“Good morning, Moomin!” he beamed. He clutched his bag and rummaged through, picking out a small cup. “Do you want some coffee?” 

Moomintroll set his jaw. He already had coffee this morning. But what rules were there to say you could only have one a day? 

“Yes, please,” he affirmed. 

Snufkin was quick to the pot where he poured him a cup. Moomintroll was quite surprised when Snufkin suddenly bestowed him a peck above the eyes as he handed his coffee over. “You're chipper this morning,” he commented as he reached up to flatten the slightly ruffled bit of fur. 

“Could I just not be happy to see you?” Snufkin mewed, grabbing his own cup and taking a seat next to him. “Besides crappie season has just started and-”

“Did you just swear?”

Snufkin blinked at him. “A crappie is a fish.”

“Oh, sorry.” Moomintroll crimsoned. “Continue.”

Snufkin looked at him for a moment before doing so, “I was just saying crappies are easier to kipper than herrings, so I don't have to keep making stews all the time.”

“Isn't kippering a herring thing?”

“If you want to be short-sighted, then yes.”

He took a sip of his coffee and Moomintroll followed suit. It was not a usual practice to consume hot drinks during the summer but Snufkin always seemed to brew coffee the way he liked most and he would be a fool to pass it up. 

But now he became overrun with chills as he remembered why he had come here. He had a bad feeling about this. Should he slowly reel it in or just come out with it? Should he even say anything?

“Something on your mind?” He realised Snufkin was facing him. _Damnit_. Snufkin had this thing of knowing whenever something was bothering him, and he knew better than to hide from him. _Just get on with it_.

Moomintroll stared into his cup. “Um...Snufkin… I know this is going to sound, ah - crazy - but I have been thinking about something lately and I want to... _propose_ it to you.” 

Snufkin narrowed his eyes. “I thought we agreed that we would wait a year to start thinking about marriage.” 

Moomintroll coughed. “It's not that.”

“Good.” Snufkin took another sip. 

That was the poorest choice of words. But by the Booble, how blunt that would have been if that were the case. Moomintroll shook his head. Focus. 

There was a pause. A robin sang a tune in the nearby distance, and a small party of bees were gathering in the collection of chamomiles beside the river. Moomintroll felt like he was going to explode. “Snufkin, is the Mymble your mother?” 

Immediately Snufkin lurched forward, spitting out his drink. He caught his hat in time just as it was about to fall off his head and spun around to face Moomintroll with wide eyes. “Excuse me?” 

Oh dear. This was a bad idea. “Well, I was just-” His heart started to drum against his chest as Snufkin’s face contorted to a look of anger.

“I thought I made it clear I do not want to talk about it!” Snufkin pulled the hem of his hat over his face and growled into it. “Or maybe I should never have opened my big stupid mou…”

He trailed off and glowered at Moomintroll again. “I know you asked someone,” he hissed. “Who told you?” 

Moomintroll frowned, realising the game was up. “My parents…” he admitted, hanging his head. 

“Great.” Snufkin rubbed at his eyes. “Just perfect. Wonderful.” He sighed loudly and slapped his paws to his lap. “Why did you ask them? Couldn’t you have just minded your own business?” 

It was Moomintroll’s turn to start shouting. “I didn't assume she was your mother!” he exclaimed. “I just thought she had wronged you in some way! How was I supposed to know she was your-” 

“You still should have just let it go! I expected better from you, Moomintroll. You have no right to pry into my personal life like this!” 

“Well, pardon me for caring!” Moomintroll ranted. “You introduce a concept such as this and you _don’t_ expect me to question it? I’m your _partner_ , for Booble’s sake! And I thought that as partners we wouldn’t be hiding things from each other, so why did you hide _this_ from me, huh? Do you even trust-”

“How dare you!” Snufkin cut him off with a snarl. “You’re not entitled to anything from me! If you’ve had even the slightest clue of what I’ve been through, what that wretched woman did to me, I…” 

He trailed off again and stared at the ground, gripping his knees tautly. Moomintroll felt trapped as he realised the weight of his own words and how he never raised his voice towards Snufkin like that before. It was such a hideous feeling. He wanted to throw up.

At last Snufkin stood up and adjusted his hat. “I need to be alone,” he declared, voice quiet but bitten with anger. 

“Snufkin, I-” 

“No! Get out of my sight!” he spat. “I need to think and you - you need to think too! About what you did, how you went behind my back-” 

“I just don’t understand why you never trusted me!” cried Moomintroll. “How come I’m just finding out this much about you? In fact, do I even actually know you at all-” 

“I said _get out_!” 

Moomintroll frowned at first before leaving with a scowl. He made it to the bridge and that was where he stopped to gather himself. He inhaled deeply and stole a heedful look behind him. Snufkin was gone, but his tent had zipped shut. He felt like the ugliness could expel through his eyes at any minute.

He sat by the bridge edge and dangled over the water. The river was totally void from any fish he could see.

“Oh, by the Booble’s tail…” He put his face in his paws. “What have I done?” 

\--

Moomintroll returned home through the verandah. He felt bad, worse than bad, like he willed the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He wished he could wake up and this was all just a heat-induced nightmare, and he did not horribly mess things up and everything was fine.

He walked inside to find Moominmamma reading a book at the table. She looked up and her face fell as soon as she saw him. There was no doubt he could not even try hiding his distraught at that moment. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

Moomintroll considered his answer for a few moments. “We had a fight,” he said vaguely.

Moominmamma tipped her head in confusion and then realised upon an instant. “Oh dear.” She shut the book and placed it down. “Is it about what I think it is?”

He shrugged. 

“Moomintroll, you shouldn’t have confronted him about it,” she said gently but firmly. “If he keeps it to himself, there’s probably a reason why.”

“I know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Moomintroll shook his head. “No. I think I’ll just go to my room.” 

“Alright.” Moominmamma gave him the most gentle look she only reserved for him. “Just know I’m always here if you need to talk.”

“Thanks.” 

Tail dragging behind, Moomintroll crossed the living room and made his way to the stairs. He passed Moominpappa on his loveseat. Moominpappa withdrew his newspaper to take notice of him. “Oh, Moomintroll!” he greeted, but he was ignored as Moomintroll continued up the stairs without a word. 

Confused, Moominpappa leaned forward to spare a questioning look at his wife. Moominmamma met his gaze and twitched her head towards the verandah door. Then a knowing look was shared between them. 

Moomintroll sat on his bed and stared at the floor with utter misery. He had no energy to do anything else, even though he was being practically baked alive in this hot room. Perhaps he should open a window. But he could not urge himself to; maybe he deserved to be baked alive. He sighed and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. What an idiot he was.

He continued to wallow for a couple of more minutes. Nobody had attempted to check on him, which he supposed he appreciated. They knew better than him than to pry on business that was not theirs. 

Suddenly he was startled by a vigorous tapping on the window, followed by a bolt unlatching and an eruption of cool air. Well, _most_ knew better. He glared daggers at the culprit. 

“Do yourself a favour and open a window!” Little My jumped inside and dusted herself. “You’ll bake like a pie in here!” 

“Well, you just _broke_ a window. So thanks.” Moomintroll groaned and put his snout between his palms. “That’s just what I needed.” 

Little My paused and stared at him with crossed arms. Moomintroll would have kicked her out himself if he had the mental capacity. “Sheesh,” Little My grimaced. “Who pissed in your cereal this morning?”

“Go away,” Moomintroll hissed. “I’m not in the mood.”

Little My tutted. “When are you ever in the mood for anything? What’s gotten you so sour this time? Is it about Snufkin?” She expertly picked up on a wince from that. “Oh, no _way_! He definitely broke up with you, didn’t he?”

“No, he didn’t!” he protested. _At least I hope he didn’t_. “It’s just…” He threw his paws in the air and let out a frustrated groan. “You won’t understand.” 

“I can try.” Little My lunged on the bed and sat next to him, prizing him a smirk as she patted his tail. “Come _oooon_ , bud…”

Moomintroll snatched his tail away. “Don’t call me bud,” he said coldly. “And it’s none of your business what happened.” The regrets piled all over him again, getting heavier by the second as it sank in more how much of a hypocrite he was being.

Little My scowled. “I think I have at least some right to know, considering this is my _brother_ you’re talking about.”

“Well, that still doesn’t mean-” He stopped himself. “Hang on, how do you-... Have you been eavesdropping on us last night?” 

“Eavesdropping on what?” 

“How do you know Snufkin’s your brother?”

She looked genuinely confused. “Um, we did kind of live in the same house for a while, before he suddenly vanished off somewhere. He was the youngest and also the favourite.”

“ _Youngest_? He’s younger than you?” 

“Yeah. Don’t remind me.” Suspicion crossed Little My’s face and she put her hands on her hips. “Why are you even asking this? And what’s this last night thing you’re accusing me of eavesdropping on?” 

“I’m not accusing you. I’m only…” Moomintroll exhaled sharply. He may as well just tell her. “Okay fine. Do you remember yesterday when I asked Pappa if the Mymble has ever done anything bad?”

“Of course I do. And I still think it’s a very weird question.” 

And thus he began to describe everything to her from the beginning, and as he rambled on he realised with pleasant surprise that Little My was remaining quiet throughout the whole explanation. He realised her nodding along to it all, without a hint of a smirk, and he was anticipating whether she was being authentic for once or she was building up to some kind of joke. Regardless, he went on. 

She interrupted him towards the very end when she said, “And that’s when he got mad at you, huh?”

Moomintroll gave her a sheepish look. “Is it obvious..?” 

Little My snorted. “Moomintroll, no offense, but I would feel that by now you should know how Snufkin turned out the way he is. I mean, have you seen how my siblings are?” 

He paused to consider. “Oh...yeah.” 

“And I think he has all the right to be mad at you, to be quite honest,” Little My stated, her voice firm. “It really was none of your business, and even though he was my mother’s favourite for a while, that did not mean he grew up in a way that was found favourable. Why do you think I decided to live here now?”

“I just don’t know why he never told me,” Moomintroll sulked. “For some reason, everyone else seems to know but me. It’s like he doesn’t trust me.”

“Well, I know by default; because I’m his sister. Your parents know because he was always brought along when Mother came to visit. And you were just born when he vanished, so you had no way of knowing him back then. You don’t even need to know this. No one does.” 

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

Little My considered for a moment. “Well, first you can respect his wishes and leave him alone for a while. And then once you feel you both had enough time, go seek him out and just talk.”

“Talk about what though?”

She shrugged. “Bees, smiles, park keepers, boobs.” She chuckled as Moomintroll frowned at the last one. “Just talk about what happened and see if the both of you can come to any sort of conclusion. The two of you clearly love each other and want to make things right again, so just kiss and make up and all that couple-y jazz, and just learn to respect his privacy next time. Get me?”

“Yeah, I get you.” He understood, despite everything. He looked down at Little My and smiled. “You know, you can be wise when you want to be, My.” 

Little My jumped down from the bed and headed for the door. “Believe it or not I am the eldest out of this ragtag bunch in Moominvalley, so sometimes I take it upon myself to watch over you lot.” She inched the door open and then stopped to face him. “Also, if you hurt my little brother again, believe me when I say there will be a _world_ of pain for you, Moomintroll.” 

He chuckled for a few seconds before a genuine glare from her made him flinch. “I- I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good.” And with that she slammed the door behind her.

\--

Summer was undoubtedly its best at the brink of night. Although still considerably warm, it was more like being wrapped snug in a blanket than stepping into the hottest oven. 

Moomintroll decided he still had a head to be cleared, and so after dinner he went outside and sat at the old bridge. His stomach knotted as he remembered who was still camped nearby, and ultimately he tried to pry his mind away from it and kept his gaze fixed on the water below. 

He wondered what fish came out at night. Didn't Snufkin say it was crappie season? Was there a school of crappie floundering beneath him right at this moment? He didn't know; his fishing instinct nor night vision was not nearly as advanced as… He took a deep breath and straightened himself; no matter how greatly he tried, he could never be too far away. 

Moomintroll continued to relish in the cool summer night for what felt like a good while, although it could have only been a couple of minutes. He knew the water was icy from just the way it gurgled under his feet - bathing in it sure sounded refreshing. Birdsong was replaced by crickets; he was probably surrounded by dozens of them but yet again he could not see well. 

Then another noise came out of the blue: footfalls. He knew what direction they were coming from and had to psyche himself up before turning his head. Snufkin was standing at the end of the bridge. The two stared at each other in silence for a few moments before Snufkin finally walked over to sit beside him. He was not equipped with anything to suggest fishing. He was just sitting there. Moomintroll's stomach tied more into knots. 

“I'm sorry,” he said after more unbearable silence. 

“I know you are.” Snufkin's tone was gentle. “I suppose some regrettable things were said this morning.”

Moomintroll glanced at his knees. “Are…Are you still mad?” he asked meekly. 

Snufkin paused a bit before responding. He exhaled heavily. “It’s not that I’m mad,” he confessed. “It’s just… I never wanted you to find out. I felt terribly bad for hiding it, but I thought it was just a part of my life that I could just move on from and forget about.” 

“I’m sorry if I brought up any bad memories…” Moomintroll muttered with writhing paws.

Snufkin awarded him with a half-smile. “You didn’t,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I think after today and yesterday, I realised I really wasn’t able to put it all behind me.”

“Was she…” Moomintroll swallowed. “Was she a good mother to you?” 

He paused. “She favoured me, I suppose. But that did not mean I liked the conditions I was in. I wanted out badly.” 

He dipped his head and stared into the trickling stream, sighing. “Moomintroll, there is still so much you don't know about me,” he said. “I didn't think much of them were relevant, but after what happened, I realised some things were still eating away at me. I didn't want you to know because… after hearing so little about me, I feared you may think less of me if I told you this much.” 

Moomintroll's heart sank as he realised just how lucky he was. He had grown up in a close knit family, surrounded by others who loved him without condition and always had some people and someplace to turn to if he ever found himself in a dilemma. Some others do not have that benefit; even though Snufkin had never said anything before, it was always implied that he had constantly been alone throughout his life, adapting to a nomadic lifestyle since at a very young age. 

“I won't think any less of you.” Moomintroll moved to squeeze Snufkin's paw; Snufkin squeezed back after some hesitation. “Snufkin, I really don't want you to feel obligated to say anything. So if you choose not to, that's completely fine with-” 

“No,” Snufkin interrupted. “I feel like finally telling you would give me a release of some kind. Vulnerable, yes, but I have learned that keeping your guard up will only make matters worse.”

He reached into a pocket and pulled out his pipe. He gave a few puffs and craned to stare into the mellow starlight. “I suppose I'll start from the beginning, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that crappie joke did not turn out as well as i hoped because i found out pretty quick it's pronounced crop-y and not crap-y. woops. but i kept the joke anyway because the snufkin-doesn't-swear fandom thing is funny. call it a writing joke i guess.
> 
> also i'm sorry but i fucking LOVE writing snufkin and moomintroll having a couple fight. i don’t mean that in a weird way, it’s just that they’re so soft all the time and the boys need some DRAMA. i think my other fic broken ice got a lot of kudos because other people seem to like it too. i also like writing snufkin going feral. he is not safe from me. 
> 
> also also i keep forgetting snufkin smokes a pipe (blame moominvalley for censoring him and making him a plant eating fuck) so i quickly threw it in at the last second because it just feels right. i don't know what universe this fic is set in, probably in a moominvalley au where snufkin isn't eating plants.


	3. Mackerel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mumrik kitten opened his eyes and stared back up at her. Call it defiance, because nothing seemed to faze him. The Mymble’s daughter could have smashed the bowl on the floor and Snufkin would have merely stared at her and gone back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay don't get used to this weird chapter-every-other-day schedule i've been doing because it stops now lol. i keep writing and finishing chapters in advance and i think i'm just gonna stop and take it easy for now. because i am too busy irl to have a schedule like that. there is no schedule, we die like men.  
> sorry for the forthcoming word vomit and not much going on plot wise. i'm just trying to establish...things before getting into the actual story. i hc mumriks are a lot like cats in a way as you can probably tell from here and also with the joxter fucking off and all that lol... but the one headcanon i have of them being obligate carnivores has probably been debunked a bunch of times in canon but i just can't shake it off so it's out in the open now. i just like to imagine snufkin in awkward social situations where there's food present but no meat and he's too polite to ask for any so he just suffers. 
> 
> anyway hope you enjoy!

Being the single eldest in a congregation of literally twenty children meant there was an overabundance of responsibility for the Mymble’s daughter. She woke up to the deafening noises of shrills and screams from her younger siblings every day for the past ten years of her life. She had no memories from when it was just her and her mother. Perhaps it had never been that way. 

Mymbles are a peculiar species. They are most infamous for their highly paternal nature; their ability to take in the responsibility of any child that came wallowing to their doorstep. They usually have up to three children at a time, but Mother Mymble of Moominvalley was a special case. She had the oddly supernatural ability to carry up to six children at a time, bear them with hardly a shaky breath, and then rinse and repeat the experience as though it were a simple household chore. 

It had been this way for the Mymble’s daughter for ten years; her mother would periodically give her more and more siblings every year, and as the years go by the house got more and more small, and property got more and more damaged. There must have been some other offender who had been helping her mother bring these new siblings into the house. Maybe it was the same one who had brought herself. But honestly, she had stopped caring once her third batch of siblings came along. 

The only exception to this was the latest addition; he clearly did not resemble the others. The Mymble’s daughter had a great suspicion who this other man was. She was just thankful her mother had interests in other men for once. 

Her first task this morning was to give her siblings breakfast, and comparing that to the other tasks she had to do today, it was probably the easiest to do. She woke up at 5 o’clock on the dot to prepare twenty breakfast bowls, all full of beans because her siblings were thankfully not picky, and then call them all for their meal after assembling the bowls in neat rows across the large breakfast table. She didn’t know why she bothered arranging them neatly; it wasn’t like they weren’t going to be immediately strewn about. Perhaps it was like the last moments of cold sunlight before a thunderstorm. 

The next few minutes followed as usual. The Mymble’s daughter had poured each bowl their fill, arranged the table, and gave herself a few more moments of silence before giving the call. And almost instantly the kitchen erupted with chaos, like her siblings had been a group of patient frogs lying in wait before striking the fly. A decade of this brought nothing new. The Mymble’s daughter simply leaned back on the counter as her siblings fought viciously on the table before finally relenting and choosing their bowls - after only a half hour, which was a record. 

But as the storm began to quiet down, the Mymble’s daughter found herself watching the table and noticing something out of place. A child was missing, and it did not take a Hemulen to figure out whom. After finding nothing separated from the sea of red hair, the Mymble’s daughter sighed and approached the table. She snatched the only unoccupied bowl from the paws of a greedy child and headed upstairs to the bedroom. 

The bedroom was understandably the largest room in the house, full of nothing but beds and toys in the middle to prevent her siblings from eating each other as a source of entertainment. She passed her mother’s room, the only cleanest in the house as there was a strict prohibition against entering. But she could enter all she wanted, she had the high ground of being the eldest. That was one of the only advantages. 

The Mymble’s daughter entered her siblings’ bedroom and looked around, spotting a tenanted bed among a plethora of many disheveled bedsheets. It was the bed of the youngest: Snufkin: she was sure was his name. He was the lone child in a clutch, like her, but that was where all their similarities came to a screeching halt. Snufkin wasn’t fully a mymble; he was also a snufkin - or a mumrik for a want of a different name. They are solitary, territorial creatures. She wasn’t sure what her mother had seen in that old mumrik she had a brief fling with. She remembered him smelling particularly bad. 

“Hey.” She approached the bed, rattling the bowl. “Are you awake?” It was a mystery how Snufkin had managed to sleep through the chaos of his half-siblings fleeing the room. 

The mumrik kitten opened his eyes and stared back up at her. Call it defiance, because nothing seemed to faze him. The Mymble’s daughter could have smashed the bowl on the floor and Snufkin would have merely stared at her and gone back to sleep. But for some reason she sort of liked that, he was probably the most well behaved of the children in this house. 

She sighed and knelt down beside his bed. “I know you don’t want to join them,” she said as she jostled the beans in the bowl. She then placed it on the mattress beside him. “Here you go. Don’t tell Mother I let you eat in here.” 

Not like he said much anyway. 

Snufkin got up and gazed in the bowl. He looked at the contents for a while, and then looked back up at his big sister, eyes dim with disinterest. The Mymble’s daughter could have smacked herself. Of course, apparently mumriks have this weird thing of needing a primary meat diet or else they will fall seriously ill. She had risked potentially killing her youngest brother with beans because she had overlooked that detail, but thankfully Snufkin seemed to have better intuition than any of his half-siblings. 

She knew she had to cook up some meat quickly as Snufkin rarely ate what he was given and seemed to have his own way of finding food. When let outside he would scavenge near the forest edge; on his first day he had found the carcass of a bird and managed to pull out a good chunk of its feathers before Mother Mymble had pulled him away. Now he mostly preyed for insects, the Mymble’s daughter had caught him eating worms, beetles and even spiders. She had even spotted him with a butterfly where he caught it, released it, then caught it again, and then released it again, over and over. Like some kind of sadistic game. She was told mumrik kits acted this way to practice hunting, so as much as it deeply unnerved her she tried to pay it no mind. 

She took the bowl from him and stood up. “Stay here,” she ordered. “I’ll cook you something very quick.” 

“Okay.” Snufkin flopped back down and stared at nothing in particular.

\--

Moomintroll temporarily disrupted Snufkin's tale to gag quietly into his paw. “You _ate_ a dead bird?” 

“I did many bizarre things as a kit.” Snufkin drew his hat over his face to shield the reddening. “Mumrik kittens are curious little things; without an outlet to sink their claws into, they will go out and cause all kinds of havoc. They'll eat your dead pet if you haven't buried it yet.” 

He seemed to trail off and he put his pipe into his mouth again. Moomintroll noticed that but decided to pretend he didn’t. For now. “At least the bird wasn't infected with anything, right?” he muttered.

Snufkin nodded. “Yes. I suppose I was quite lucky with that.”

\--

The Mymble’s daughter remained by the door to ensure her half-brother was not crossing through thoughts of sneaking to the attic to terrorise a family of mice. When he remained, she took to the stairs and scavenged through the cabinets for the dried fish her mother had caught the other day. Not caught herself, but purchased from a lonely merchant. Her siblings were fighting behind her but she continued rummaging anyway.

She had just found the fish and was preparing a chopping board when heavy footsteps came to her side. “A bit early for fish, hm?” The voice was kind and familiar. 

“Good morning, mother.” The Mymble's daughter lay a fish on the board. “It's for Snufkin,” she explained. 

“Oh, my littlest!” exclaimed her mother. “Where is he? I imagine he's not engaging in the chaos behind us.”

She bit her tongue. “He's still asleep. And maybe that's a good thing.” 

“My boy will not be getting his hair messy.” The Mymble shook her head. “Let him eat upstairs.”

“Oh - okay.”

“We’re visiting the Moomins tomorrow,” the Mymble informed as her daughter continued to chop up the fish pieces. “I believe they haven’t properly met Snufkin yet, and I want to give a formal introduction. Also, have I ever told you their big news?”

Her daughter picked a bowl from the cabinet and cupped her paws under the chopped up pieces. “I don’t think so.” She dropped them into the bowl. “What news?”

The Mymble grinned. “They’re expecting!”

“Expecting… oh!” It took her daughter a few moments to understand. “How wonderful! It’s about time the two of them settle down. Will Moomintroll be called Moominpappa then - is that how it goes?”

“Yes, and Moominmaiden will be Moominmamma.” Two of her children were causing a bit too much ruckus on the table. The Mymble went to the sink to fill up a jug of water. “I’m sure their child will be the perfect playmate for little Snufkin; he doesn’t seem to be getting along with any of his siblings.” 

She filled up the jug and walked over to the fighting pair to pour water on them, which promptly stopped their physical argument and sent them straight back to their seats. Her daughter scowled; just another puddle to clean up later on. “If he doesn’t get along with his siblings, how will you expect him to get on with their baby?” 

“You don’t know, something could click.” The Mymble grinned. “Life works in mysterious ways, my dear.”

\--

Moomintroll snorted. “Playdate…” he echoed with a smirk. 

Snufkin thought for a second and chuckled as well. “Well, she wasn’t wrong.” He gave Moomintroll a moony look and leaned against him. 

“We were set up since the beginning.” Moomintroll wrapped his tail around them.

“Perhaps that is the one thing she did right.” He laughed again, raspily this time as he grew to notice how weightless the joke was. He cleared his throat. “Well anyway - hopefully I have established what kind of child I was, and the conditions I had grown up in.”

“It sounded quite horrible actually,” Moomintroll frowned. “I’m...sorry you were subjected to that sort of thing.” He paused and beamed a tad as a way to summon a ray of sunshine through the clouds. “But uh, I do think you were a cute baby.” 

Snufkin made a noise of embarrassment and adjusted his hat. “Well,” he said, coughing. “As terrible as it was, it was not the sole thing that had moulded my experiences. Do you remember long ago when I told you I was found in a basket?” 

Moomintroll blinked and paused for a few seconds. “Oh...yeah, I think so. Thinking back on that now actually, that... doesn’t really make a lot of sense.”

“That’s because it was metaphorical,” replied Snufkin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all this chapter accomplished was show how much of a gremlin kitten child snufkin was.  
> i tried to think of an actual name for the mymble's daughter for narrative reasons but i actually couldn't. she's just the Mymble's Daughter and we must accept that. i'm just thankful she isn't going to be prominent throughout the story. and sorry if the narrative is a bit confusing, it's basically a retelling from snufkin but is also its own story by being centered on the mymble's daughter, and snufkin is just retelling what he overheard from downstairs. mumriks probably have good hearing.
> 
> also does anyone know how to get rid of the end notes from the first chapter because they're showing up on other chapters too and i don't like em. i know jackshit on how this site works


	4. Cichlid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very small child was curled up asleep in the basket. “Well, isn’t he lovely,” beamed Moominmamma. “Is this the newest one?”
> 
> “Yes,” grinned the Mymble. “His name is Snufkin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter the mymble gives horrible parenting advice and snufkin wants to get fleas.  
> we argue whether he bathes or not but i think the real question is, does he get fleas.  
> also did i ever preface that snufkin has claws and a tail in this fic? ....well just know he does because yknow. he especially had them when he was a baby but as an adult he conceals them because he doesn't wanna be a furry i guess. although moomin isn't as surprised to find out he has a tail because a tail isn't particularly hard to miss.  
> this chapter implies that sniff is older than snufkin because i thought the notion of that was funny. imagine getting verbally thrashed by a baby. also i forgot how much older little my is supposed to be than snuf so i'm hoping she's around 5 years older. that's how i hc it anyway, i don't think there's a definite age.  
> but yes actual plot begins now. snufkin really wants to get fleas, stop him.

Moominpappa felt lighter than floating dandelion seeds - he paused, perhaps he should write that phrase down. 

Ever since he came upon finding out the most brilliant news he had ever heard, he could hardly sit still. He had been swivelling in his favourite writing chair for the past week, for hours on end, fantasising the many possibilities that would soon befall now that fatherhood was approaching him. As per tradition he had insisted to change his name from Moomintroll to Moominpappa; most moomins change their names after their first child is born, but this occurrence was too special to not adapt to it straight away. 

Moominpappa felt inspired to write. He had been writing all day, stopping to take a break maybe once or twice as he tried to think of better adjectives. That was one of the main struggles as a writer, but he could not allow the discrepancies between his mind and his writing paw to bother him. Being a soon-to-be father, so many more worries were forthcoming - and it was so exciting to him.

He had been at his desk for a long while. Ever since meeting his wife and taking it upon himself to build this house to spend the rest of their years, he had used this extra room to document all of the adventures of his youth - from escaping a militant orphanage to embarking on an overseas venture with his old friends. He reminisced, wondering how his old friends were getting on these days. He knew at least one of them have had recently had little devils of their own; first there was the Muddler and his new wife the Fuzzy whom had bought a son named Sniff into the world, and little Sniff has been growing well for the past year. The little thing had an odd vexation on shiny things though. 

He was unsure about the others; he knew the Mymble had had a new child roughly a couple of months after meeting the Joxter - whom seemed to have had dropped off the face of the Earth these days. 

How suspicious. 

“Dear!” The call from Moominmaiden - sorry, Moomin _mamma_ \- from downstairs made Moominpappa jump from his seat at once. He hurried out the room and skidded by the edge of the banister, but before he could call back to her Moominmamma said, “The Mymble is here!”

“Oh!” Moominpappa should have guessed from the increasing shrills of children coming from the distance. He slipped back to his office to pluck on his hat before rushing to greet the woman. They have grown quite acquainted with the Mymble since the party, and the Mymble had seemingly taken this as an invitation to arrive to the Moominhouse at any day she pleased.

Not that they minded, of course.

They all met on the verandah and that was where they settled for tea, while the Mymble allowed her children to run free in the garden. It was a beautiful spring day after all. Moominmamma peered anxiously at the small playground that had just been made outside her house; she had just planted some fresh oleanders at the front, it would be a shame if the children damaged them - or worse, ate the poisonous flowers. 

Nonetheless she poured the Mymble some tea, dodging her husband’s efforts of doing the honours for her. “How many sugars?” When answered, she plopped three sugar cubes into the cup and sat on the chair Moominpappa had pulled out for her. 

“My eldest is at home,” said the Mymble as she stirred her cup. “She has some studies to catch up with, and I believe being away from all the ruckus will do wonders for her.” 

“Is she learning well?” Moominpappa queried. 

“But of course! She’s being schooled by the best, after all.” The Mymble raised her cup to her lips. She had insisted on homeschooling all of her children - it saved a fortune on education bills. 

But both of the Moomins were more intent on peering curiously at the swaddled hamper on her lap. They exchanged a look with one another before Moominpappa cleared his throat. “Ah, we wish to clear some dust here,” he said. “What is that you’ve got there, Mymble?”

“Hm?” She looked down at her lap. “Oh, I almost forgot!” She placed her cup on its little plate and then pushed it aside as she carefully lifted the basket to rest it in between her and the Moomins. There was a proud look on her face. “You two may need to be quiet now, we don’t want to wake him.”

“Wake who-” Moominmamma was cut off as the basket was opened. “Oh!” 

A very small child was curled up asleep in the basket. “Well, isn’t he lovely,” beamed Moominmamma. “Is this the newest one?”

“Yes,” grinned the Mymble. “His name is Snufkin.” 

As though on cue Snufkin awoke with a sneeze and craned to stare at the new, long-snouted faces gazing down at him. He looked more intrigued than scared.

Moominpappa smiled and reached a paw out to the little thing. “Hello there, chap.” He looked very similar to a certain somebody but he decided not to ask about it. “I see you haven't tied up his hair, Mymble…”

“He claws at me every time I try,” she muttered. “But he can present himself however he likes. He's a very special lad.” 

“He's very sweet,” said Moominmamma as Snufkin climbed out the basket and hung by the edge of the table to gaze down at the sea of roughhousing half-siblings. “Does he speak at all?”

“Sometimes,” the Mymble answered. “He's very quiet and doesn't seem to get along with the others.” She picked Snufkin off the table and held him on her lap, petting his hair. “But that's what I like about him, he's very well-behaved - probably the most behaved child I've had in a long time.” 

She set him down as he began to writhe in her grip. “I bet him and your little one will be the best of friends once it arrives.” 

Moominmamma fiddled with her cup. “I hope so,” she muttered. She leaned over to the side of the table, watching Snufkin hide under his mother's chair and stare out at his siblings as though they were the plague. “A bit antisocial, isn't he?” 

“Since you're here with all the children,” began Moominpappa, switching the subject. “We were wondering if you have any advice for us, since we do have a baby on the way.” 

“Oh, yes!” Moominmamma nodded. “We would much appreciate it.”

The Mymble clutched her cup again. “My best advice is to just go with the flow,” she said. “It's beneficial to read up whatever information you may need, but you must remember this is happening to you and nobody else.” 

The couple hesitantly nodded, exchanging a look. 

“When I had my eldest, I told myself she was born to be her own person,” she continued. “And therefore she could only be raised by herself, so she could grow up to be the person she wants to be.”

“Um…” Moominpappa flattened his ears. “Right.”

“And if anything goes wrong.” The Mymble winked. “Just have a jug of water ready.”

Moominpappa frowned. “I don't think that's-” 

He was abruptly cut off by a screech from down below. They all looked down by the Mymble's chair, where Snufkin was struggling beneath the grip of one of his siblings, and of course it was discovered to be Little My. She had her brother pinned with her teeth while he scratched and battered at her. The Mymble quickly moved to lift Little My away from her victim, and Snufkin leaped to coil himself around the chair leg and spit fury at his sister. 

The Moomins gawked in shock. 

“Little My, what did we talk about?” scolded the Mymble. “We do not bite other people, especially your little brother!”

Little My pouted. “I was only playing,” she protested. “It's not my fault he's being a _wuss_.”

“I am not!” snarled Snufkin from below. 

“Don't be rude.” The Mymble pointed a rebuking finger at her little daughter. “He's already starting to outgrow you, Little My. You cannot mess around with people who are bigger than you.”

Odd, but true. Snufkin was very much still a little thing; but yet he was already beginning to dwarf Little My, despite being five years her junior. It was a mystery why Little My was simply refusing to grow beyond the size she was born as, but it did not have to mean her personality had to be just as small as she was. She had made that abundantly clear. 

“As if I'll ever be shorter than _him_!” Little My glowered down at Snufkin and stuck her tongue out. Snufkin hissed back. “I'll be taller than all of you someday - and then I could bite whoever I want!” 

\--

The story was interrupted by the both of them as they laughed amongst themselves. Moomintroll sneered, “How ironic.”

“I know,” Snufkin snorted. 

\--

The Mymble set Little My down, thankfully a good way away from where Snufkin was hidden, and she watched in relief as she rushed to bother her other siblings. “But yes.” She returned to the conversation. “Having children is very rewarding. Go with the flow and allow them to grow to who they want to be, that is my advice.”

The Moomins thanked the stars their species commonly conceive only one calf at a time. “Indeed. Thank you, Mymble.” Moominmamma stood from her chair. “Anyone want a top-up?” 

“Don't stand up so much.” Moominpappa patted his wife on the palm. “Allow me.” 

Snufkin continued to hide under the chair for a long while, wrapping his tail around the leg so no wind could ever sweep him away from it. He watched his siblings all fall over each other below the porch and sniffed in distaste. He would join them if he fancied getting bitten more, and a few games had been stopped in the past because he dared to show his claws. So now he simply watched - he didn't like most of his siblings anyway, nor the games they played. Nowhere near as fun as chasing moths or trapping birds.

\--

“You have _claws_?” Moomintroll gazed at him with huge, wonderful eyes. 

Snufkin confirmed with a silent nod. Moomintroll gave a bashful look at his knees. “Could I…” he murmured. “Could I see them?” 

Snufkin hesitated, and then popped his pipe into his mouth as he offered him a paw. Moomintroll took the paw and gently squeezed one finger, letting out a soft gasp as a reflexive claw slid out after a slightly more firm press. “My word…” he marveled. The claw was small, possibly from desertion, but it still appeared dangerous nevertheless. “That's brilliant. How come you never told me you have them?”

Snufkin quickly removed his paw. “Because I don't use them anymore.”

“Do you still trim them?”

“Yeah.” Snufkin looked distant. “Every now and then. When no one's looking.” 

“Why?”

Snufkin's smile was weak. “So I don't get asked about them.”

\--

Something flapped at the corner of his vision. Speak of the devil. Snufkin batted at the moth. It twirled in the air and hovered at the edge of the porch. He got up and followed it, not caring if he was being watched or not. He walked to the edge and fell clumsily onto the grass, where he got up, shook himself and continued onward without much of a care. 

The moth landed on a white puffed dandelion and Snufkin froze. He dropped to all fours and crept as stealthily as his tiny unequipped body could allow before leaping and causing a cloud of dandelion seeds to fly all over him. The moth had vanished. He sat up and scratched himself, calling the moth a stupid thing under his breath. And then he glanced forward, realising he had wandered all the way to the stream. Ahead of that stream lay a dense woodland, and Snufkin found himself staring at it. 

Although the day was clear and sunny, the forest was dark and enigmatic. Its beginning enticed stories of many that lived in it or embarked on journeys through its labyrinthian terrain. Snufkin was walking closer without realising, as though the shadows were talking to him, inviting him to stay a while. Once he wandered deep in the forest he would be utterly alone, away from the stresses of home, from being surrounded by over a dozen ankle-biters, from the constant smothering of his mother. It would just be him and the forest-

“There you are!” Snufkin squeaked in alarm as arms found his waist and hauled him up. “You almost fell in the river there, dear!” The honeyed smile of the Mymble ached his stomach. Snufkin frowned and tried to gaze back at the forest, clawing desperately at the fabric that hung on his mother’s shoulders. 

Regardless of his silent protest he was taken back to the porch. Snufkin watched the forest grow smaller and smaller, and felt his desires grow stronger and stronger. 

“Oh my,” said Moominpappa as they arrived back. “He’s quite the wanderer, isn’t he?” 

“Yes.” The Mymble stroked Snufkin’s hair. “It’s like I can’t leave my eyes off him for a second.”

\--

The return home was as disorderly as it could get, with needing to navigate many children through the woods that led the way. 

Snufkin was put back in the hamper and held above the infestation of children as the Mymble walked them back home. On one hand, he was thankful to not be trampled over his siblings, but ever since his attempted forest encounter it was almost painful to not be able to walk on the forest floor and embrace the wonders of nature. Just once, he wanted to explore its depths without getting pulled away.

Just once.

“Whatever were you doing so close to the water anyway?” His mother’s voice caught him off guard. He stared up at her and said nothing. The Mymble chuckled. “You can talk at any time you want, you know.”

Snufkin gnawed on the blanket that cushioned the hamper. “Do you know about...outside the valley?” he asked.

The Mymble thought for a moment. “You mean ‘yonder’,” she replied. “I’ve been at yonder a few times.” She paused for a second as two children ran between her legs. “I went yonder to attend the Daddy Jone’s 100th birthday party.”

Her eyes dimmed as she seemed to reminisce on something. Snufkin blinked. “Who’s Daddy Jones?” 

“He is the king of an island I used to live in.”

“What’s a king?”

“Somebody who rules over an island.”

“That sounds awful.” Snufkin scowled. “Why would an island need rules?” 

The Mymble chortled; a high-pitched shrill like birdsong that pierced Snufkin’s ears. “You’re wonderful, Snufkin.” 

Snufkin looked up at her with pleading eyes. “Will we ever go yonder?” he asked. 

“No, dear.” The Mymble’s reply was solemn. “You’ll get fleas if you stay on yonder for too long.”

Fleas. That was the least of his problems. Snufkin wanted to tell his mother all about his desires of exploring outside their home and going perhaps beyond that - into yonder - but he was punctually interrupted by boisterous squawks from down below. He sighed as he bore witness to yet another physical argument between two of his siblings, fighting over who got to take the stick home or whatever it was. Snufkin could feel his tail lashing with fury; had his siblings hold no appreciation for the forest that led them to safety? 

“Oh, for the love of- Not again.” The Mymble set the basket to the ground. “Stay here, darling. I need to find some water.” 

She followed the tussling lot into a thicket, shadowed by the rest of the children. Except Snufkin, whom stayed obediently inside the basket and tried to watch and listen. That was the most entertainment he ever received from his siblings. 

He tried to listen to the melodies of the forest, entranced by the orchestra of birdsong above and the shuffle of several small creatures in the distant undergrowth. A tiny buzzing sound dragged his attention; a cricket was bouncing close by. Snufkin watched it for a little while before anticipation overtook and he clambered out the basket to stalk his prey. This time the cricket was too slow and the hunt was successful, but Snufkin released it soon after, and it hurtled into the bushes with flayed wings and a furious purr. 

Snufkin sat on the grass and watched the cricket flee from him, feeling his instincts scratch at him from within. Mumriks are ambush predators; known to wait for longer than two hours before the chance to strike, and he yearned to strike for something larger than a cricket. Not like he could practice that desire on his siblings; he'd get in trouble - and he wasn't as barbaric as Little My. Perhaps this forest could provide him with something. He gazed into those enticing shadows that led into the unknown. It brought an ominous and yet exciting force in this otherwise peaceful and quiet forest.

...Wait. Snufkin turned back to the thicket his family had disappeared into. Quiet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god mymble you can't just leave your kid in the middle of the woods. now he's gonna go on a journey of self discovery because the plot demands it.  
> i introduced economy to moominvalley by mentioning education bills and i dunno how i feel about that. but i mean electricity bills was canonically mentioned in the new show, so who knows what the truth behind moominvalley's welfare system is. 
> 
> also i found out how to get rid of those end notes from the prologue! i forgot who it was, but just know i love you! ao3 is a weird site.


	5. Shark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snufkin sighed. “I’ve never told this to anyone before,” he admitted. “What had happened, and what I did. And I just want to warn you: you may not like what you’re about to hear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey if you've been paying attention to the chapter names then you know this one is gonna be a doozy. get ready.
> 
> i think this chapter may need a little warning because it does get a bit graphic. it's not TOO bad (hopefully) but it's still pretty messed up i suppose. so yeah, content warning for blood and some...violence i guess? if you consider it violence. it shouldn't be too bad but if you feel it needs an official tag just let me know. i think this is as dark as it's gonna get...maybe...probably.
> 
> but yes have fun reading about snufkin becoming a feral child. <3

“She _abandoned_ you?” Snufkin was caught off guard by Moomintroll’s authentic shock and indignation. Moomintroll lifted his paws as to calm himself. “Okay - as much as I respect the woman, that was incredibly low of her.” 

Snufkin could only shrug. “What did I tell you?” 

“And in the middle of the forest too?” Moomintroll ranted on. “I can’t imagine how dangerous that is! You could have been _killed_ out there!”

“Mh.” Snufkin removed his pipe to pocket it and gazed ahead where the valley seemed to be in deep sleep. Several hours had passed, and night had long since fallen. A scratch of a moon hung in the inky canopy above, dotted with clusters of icy stars. The valley was swept with a delightful coolness: a relieved exhale after the suffocating heat from the morning before.

Snufkin was unsure if the day was still hanging or tomorrow had commenced. He could just tell the sun still had long to awaken. It was comforting somehow. He trailed his gaze to the other end of the quiet waters where his tent lay worshipped by a group of fireflies. 

“As much as I hate the circumstances that led to it,” he muttered. “I do believe it greatly influenced my life long journey. It awakened my true instincts.”

Moomintroll’s anger diminished. “So what happened then?” There came no answer. His face fell. “Snufkin..?” 

Snufkin started to fidget with his paws, which was unusual for him. “You said…” His words were careful. “That because we are together, we shouldn’t keep things from each other. We should always be open.” 

“Um...yes.”

“So, that’s what I’m going to do. I will tell you everything that happened, and I promise all of it is true.”

“Right…” Moomintroll tried to nod along as though he were following along. But he really wasn’t, and he knew he was an awful liar. “Uh… sorry - what are you getting at?”

Snufkin sighed. “I’ve never told this to anyone before,” he admitted. “What had happened, and what I did. And I just want to warn you: you may not like what you’re about to hear.” 

Unease settled within Moomintroll. “What you did…?” he echoed. “What are you talking about?”

\--

The sky was beginning to darken before Snufkin concluded he was not getting anywhere by simply waiting. It had been long since he had heard the voices of his mother or his siblings, and no rustling from the nearby thicket brought any closure - only creatures that were passing through. 

Snufkin had been close to forests before but never this deep by himself, and not while night was falling. He had never been up close to the shadows that were once inviting to him, and half of him wanted to crawl back into the hamper so they would not grab him. But the other half of him wanted to follow his instincts. He wanted to know what the forest had for him. 

As soon as night fell the forest began to erupt with noise. There was the stench of damp leaves and moss, as well as rotting wood. The branches on ancient trees creaked around him, and foliage rustled as something flew from it and into the criss crossed sky above. Snufkin kept his senses alert as he left the basket and began to stalk into the thicket where he had last seen his mother. His senses were not as sharp, but he figured he could pick up her footprints or any other trace she had left behind. 

The thicket opened up to a small clearing, and it was there he picked up the faint whisperings of a nearby brook, broken off from the stream outside the Moominhouse. Anticipation filled him. The Mymble had always mentioned that the brook would lead the way home. As long as he followed it, he would reach the house in no time. He frowned as he thought about the dinner he most likely missed. Perhaps he could find a dead animal out here to feast on. Now that he was alone, he didn’t have to worry about being caught eating dead things. 

An owl screeched far ahead, startling him. He had heard owls many times before, but had never laid eyes on one. Were they big? Could they prey on him? Where was the owl? Snufkin forced himself to swallow his fear and kept close to the brook. Rows of bracken streamed past him and bristled as he imagined the fiends that could be lurking in those shadows. As powerful of a predator he was at home, he was aware how small he was. In this forest he was little and vulnerable. But with a raised guard, everything in this forest could be his. 

The brook began to thin out the further he walked, and Snufkin became convinced he must have somehow lost the trail. He sat down in defeat. Now what? As much as this would stress any regular child, he seemed to feel more homely in here. Perhaps he had been born a forest creep all this time. 

A low growl immediately startled him and he jumped up to his feet again, only to quickly relax as he recognised the sound. He was hungry. Should he search for something? He located some red berries at the holly bush nearby, but he knew better than to go anywhere near that. Once he ate some suspicious red berries and he had spent the whole day vomiting. He grimaced as he recalled the unpleasant experience and stared into the chattering water below him. The brook probably held some fish, but he had no idea how to catch them, and he didn't wish to bat at the water until something jumped into his mouth.

Something moved among the birch trees on the other side of the brook and he jumped up again, confident it was something unfamiliar this time. From the split second he had seen it, the something appeared small. Smaller than he was, but bigger than say - a bird. Snufkin lingered by the brook for a few seconds before giving in and crossing to the other side. Perhaps this creep knew some directions. 

He didn't want to call out in case to startle it; he just had to get as close as possible. Snufkin walked into the birch copse and headed to where he hoped the creep had slunk off to. He stopped and searched among a gathering of gnarled roots, and then flinched at the sound of brambles rustling up ahead. This time he caught sight of some of the creature before it vanished: a small brown tail. He dropped low and pushed through the brambles, keeping as quiet as possible, and when he emerged into a small rocky slope, he finally spotted it. 

\--

Snufkin suddenly fell quiet. Moomintroll gazed at him intently. “...So what was it?”

\--

A forest creep was sneaking along the undergrowth, sniffing at the ground and nosing at the jutting bush branches above its head. Snufkin kept low and concealed by ferns, another protest from his stomach thankfully suffocated by the press of the ground below. But it ceased all intention of innocently asking for directions, as his urges were now wide awake. He couldn't take the eyes off the creature. He watched it pick at a pine cone, all unknowing what was shrouded in the ferns, watching its every move. It made his mouth drench.

He started to creep forward on all fours, carefully sliding out of the ferns and unsheathing his claws to grip on the hard earth of the steeping slope. His senses began to twitch more intensely the closer he got towards the creature, and he realised with narrowing eyes that this hunt was perhaps a bit too easy. And perhaps the hunt itself knew, because as soon as a paw reached the bottom of the slope, a twig snapped. 

Snufkin froze but he knew he was too exposed to not be spotted. The creep whirled around and took one look at him before bolting straight into the underbrush. This time, Snufkin did not hesitate to race after it.

He followed the frantic shuffle of leaves to the protective roots of an ancient birch and quickly overtook the creep as he skidded in front of the roots. The creep squealed in fright and made a sharp turn, kicking dirt in its wake. Snufkin hissed as dirt met his eyes and he continued with the pursuit, now itching with fury. 

He reached out a lethal paw and smacked at the creep's haunches, and although it stumbled it continued and make a half-clumsy dive towards the roots of another tree. This time Snufkin was not fast enough and he halted outside as the creep escaped inside, rummaging inside with his paws to no avail. Snufkin spat in frustration but he was not going to give up. He _needed_ this. At this point his instincts were skyrocketing and his mind was too hazy from the hunt to start rationalising. All he knew was that he was a hunter of the night and he needed food - food right now. He checked if the roots were sturdy enough to perch on and he climbed on top, crouching by the edge and waiting.

\--

“What happened?” asked Moomintroll after Snufkin paused again.

Snufkin stared at the water. “It ran under the roots of another tree,” he replied flatly.

“And then what?”

\--

Snufkin was not sure how long he had been waiting, but he never blinked nor took his eyes from his target for a single second. He could not see - could not smell - could not hear anything else around him, despite the forest now pulsating with many different scents and noises now that he had disturbed the peace. 

But finally a nose poked out from the roots. Snufkin held his breath as the creep hesitantly emerged from its place of hiding and looked around. But never looking up. _Foolish thing_. He allowed it a few more seconds to fully submerge itself before striking again.

The creep's shriek ripped through the air as Snufkin lunged and pinned it on its back with a loud thump, his claws grasped deep into its throat. It scored its tiny nails along his hardened wrists but all attempts of escaping its attacker were futile, and so the creep reached the final resort of lifting its paws up to beg. “Please have mercy!” it squalled. “I have a wife and w-we have a baby on the way! Please - please don't kill me!”

Snufkin watched the defenceless creep curl up in absolute fear, tremors wracking its tiny body. He could only feel his claws curl deeper into its neck.

 _Rip its throat out_ , the voice inside him demanded. He gripped the creep tighter to staunch its petrified and agonised whimpering. 

_Do it. Kill it now_.

Snufkin didn't know why he was hesitating. Was this how hunts were supposed to go? Were prey animals exempt on begging for mercy from whatever tried to eat them?

 _KILL IT_.

He acted without thinking, and everything began to move so quickly. He dug his claws into the throat until he could meet the folds of skin with his paws and then he ripped outwards. The most bloodcurdling scream filled the air and birds immediately evacuated from their posts, sending the overhanging treetops into a chaos of birds trying to flee from whatever great threat was down below.  


\--

“Something...happened…” Snufkin seemed to be hugging himself. He gazed ahead towards the sky, and Moomintroll saw his paws were shaking. “It...ha… It stopped moving. It just lay there.” 

The chuckles were harsh and fake. Snufkin’s eyes were swollen with pain as they widened, his chest heaving as he took huge breaths. 

“I killed it.”

\--

The creep jolted violently and then fell limb under Snufkin's blood-soaked paws, its jaws agape and its eyes huge and forever staring. And forever fearful. 

All sound seemed to happen at once and then it completely ceased altogether. The forest fell into a heavy silence. Not even the crickets dared to chirrup. 

\--

“I killed it,” he repeated.

He became silent after that moment, avoiding Moomintroll’s shocked eyes as he forced his own to glue to the water below them. Moomintroll’s words became caught in his throat and for the most painfully long seconds neither of them said anything. When he finally psyched himself up to speak, he introduced it by placing a gentle paw on Snufkin’s lap. “Oh, Snufkin…”

“Oh no… _Oh no, oh no, oh no_!” His chest dipped as brave adventurer Snufkin, admired by many small and forgotten, clapped his paws over his face and doubled over to let out the most pitiful and heartbreaking wail he had ever heard in his life 

Seeing Snufkin cry was a rare occurrence and it was never a pleasant thing to see - there were times Moomintroll had forgotten his companion even could. Snufkin did not know what to do with himself when he cried: his paws were constantly moving over his face, his tail was lashing wildly against the wood of the bridge, and he was fluctuating between hugging his sodden face and hugging his waist. 

Regardless Moomintroll took out a paw and rubbed it in circles against the small of Snufkin’s shuddering back. “It’s okay,” he muttered. “Just breathe.” 

“I don’t even know why I did it!” Snufkin yowled through convulsive gasps. “It had a _family_! A family has been broken because of me - because of my stupid, selfish actions!” 

“Snuf-”

“They probably never even found out.” The wailing grew more intense. “They all probably spent years and years wondering what happened and-”

“Snufkin, Snufkin.” Moomintroll grabbed at one of his arms and pulled it away from his face. “Ssh, please - look at me, hon.” He thumbed at his red-blotched face and forced himself to keep a firm facade, for seeing his most beloved this way was truly breaking his heart. “What had happened was awful, and I am honestly quite surprised to have heard this, but I know that you were only trying to survive. You were doing what your instincts were telling you to do, and even though I may not fully understand that, I know you weren't doing it out of malice.” 

Snufkin rubbed at his face and sniveled. “But what I did was still unforgivable. I should have just ignored my urges, but I didn't and because of that I killed a creep. It begged me to let it live and yet-” 

“You were only a kitten; you didn't know how to ignore them.” Moomintroll continued to caress his shoulders. “Yes, it's horrible that...it happened, but you were raised to look out for yourself. You did what you were raised to do.” 

“And what about now? That creep's blood will always be on my paws, and their family is probably still wondering to this day.”

A soft, fluffed paw brushed against his own. “You have obviously grown and changed so much since then,” assured Moomintroll. “Snufkin, you are the smartest, the most brave, the most - _beautiful_ creature I've ever met and nothing will ever change that. You are admired by so many because you've changed in ways that you obviously haven't told me about yet, and now that you have finally found the courage to tell me about this, to finally put it out there… I think I admire you a lot more now, and I didn't even think that was possible at this point.”

He prized him with the exact smile that Snufkin fell in love with. “Your experiences have shaped you into becoming a better person, and although that particular experience was horrid, I believe it might have been the one thing that had started your journey in bettering yourself, and I think it succeeded. You telling me this, it made you braver than I already thought you were, and now that it's out there in the open, you can finally work on finding your way home. And I'll always be there with you.” 

Snufkin felt like his eyes could well up more but he willed it down and let a long, shuddering breath as the words sank in. He tightly returned the grip on Moomintroll's paw and slumped up against him, not realising before how tired he was. He should think about going to bed soon. “I wish I had held a funeral for the creep,” he sighed. 

“We can still do it if you want, just us two. It's your call though.” 

They sat in silence for what seemed a few minutes. Snufkin found his mind involuntarily drift to the Mymble, his anger refreshing as he once again internally ranted that if only she had paid attention just once, then maybe he wouldn't have gone off and killed an innocent creep. But he was too tired to be angry. So instead he craned to gently peck Moomintroll on the ear. Moomintroll returned the kiss, only it brushed up against Snufkin's hat and nearly made it fall off. They chuckled at that. 

“So, um…” Moomintroll stretched his arms. “Do you mind telling what had happened after, well...that?”

Snufkin breathed in. “No. Just give me a minute.”

“Whenever you're ready.” 

Moomintroll wondered what time it was. The valley seemed to be in complete darkness, and the moon was at its highest peak. Crickets shrilled peacefully around them, rimmed by the dazzling glow of fireflies. He listened to Snufkin breathe softly against him and wondered if he had actually fallen asleep on him. But then his voice came up again, and Moomintroll leaned in to listen. 

\--

Snufkin decided he wasn’t hungry anymore. He gazed into those big, bulbous, unmoving eyes until his insides pained too much. It reminded him of that dead bird he had scavenged a while ago, but it felt different somehow. Why did this feel different? Why did he feel so awful? Why were his paws shaking? His paws. He lifted them up to look at them. They were completely drenched in red. He should wash them before he headed back home. 

But what of the creep? For some reason, Snufkin did not even want to touch it. So he turned and ran into the underbrush, leaving the shredded creep to lie cold and and forgotten, under the curious circling of a sky raptor. 

Snufkin walked until he finally found the brook again. At least, he hoped this was the brook he had been following. He knelt by its coast and dug his paws into the icy water, watching the redness form a peculiar cloud over the surface. He continued to dip and wash his paws until the mess was cleansed off, then gave one last look at the red cloud before going back on his way. 

His wandering became aimless; he had long since lost the course of the brook and was walking by sheer will and instinct. He was aware how increasingly empty his stomach was getting, although it seemed to have stopped protesting a while ago. Still, the pain of it persisted. Snufkin wondered if this was it felt like to die. 

Something thrilled from the treetops above and this time it wasn’t an owl. It sounded smaller. Sweeter. A little dot passed among the criss cross of thinning trees and rested on top on a hanging branch, and at once Snufkin recognised the feathers of a starling. Except they weren’t as dim and pale as the ones that were on the dead starling, but rather they were dazzling and bright in the black forest. He was drawn by the tune it sang, and not in the same way he had encountered the creep. But rather by intrigue. Admiration. 

Snufkin approached the base of the tree the starling was perching on and crouched down by its contorted roots, listening to the bird sing away. He wondered if birds had their own songs that they taught each other. He wondered if they sang a new song every year. Each spring, perhaps. The more he listened the more he started to recognise a pattern to the bird’s song. He started to whistle softly to himself, poorly off sync to the singing bird above him but neither of them seemed to mind. 

When it seemed as though it was just him, the starling, and their song, it was promptly stopped as the starling soared through the branches again, taking its song with. But it stayed with Snufkin and he remained at the tree’s base as he hummed it to himself for some time. Then he remembered how light he felt, and he got up to move on too. He felt no claws scraping the earth as he pushed himself up. 

Benign birdsong sprinkled above as Snufkin walked along the undergrowth, and as he reached a steep decline near the trees’ edge, a faint light caught his eye. He gazed across a flat valley to catch sight of a large house bleached in darkness, save for the yellow lights coming from its many windows. The Mymble house. Snufkin shuddered. He had been aimlessly stumbling and wandering how the Booble knew how long, and yet he had made it back, guided by the birdsong. 

He hesitated to walk down. It was like the forest had grown arms and it was pulling him back. He shook away at those tendrils the best he could, casting one very long look into the mazy depths behind him, and then ran down the hill before those arms could grow longer. 

The sounds and smells of the forest was pulled away from Snufkin like a fleece, replaced by the horribly familiar sounds of his roughhousing siblings as he came close to the house. Bedtime was perhaps soon; he recalled hearing that as the hardest task and wished godspeed on the Mymble’s daughter. The door was locked but no worries, he had his own ways of getting inside. 

He found a window that he was confident was one of the living room’s and dangled from the outer sill as he pried it open with a hard shove. He then slithered inside, his sudden appearance ceasing all sound in the room. 

“I’m home,” he muttered as he slipped and fell on top of Little My. But he didn't feel as though he were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha...well... that sure was something!
> 
> i can make the situation 10x worse by saying the creep may or may not have been teety woo's dad.... <:) in my head that's not the real reason snufkin is snappy with him but it does make their interactions a bit more dark i guess, but also more enlightening as they're in much better terms later in. but yeah that dude killed your dad teety. 
> 
> this is the second time i wrote snufkin crying oh my god. i was considering if i even should have made him cry as i don't really like inducing crying just for the drama, especially on characters like snuf, but i mean killing something and then not fully absorbing it until years later can fuck you up bad, i bet. when's moomintroll gonna cry? i don't know. he probably does it every time he's not in the narrative.


	6. Salmon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His sister's sad smile seemed to show itself in the darkness. "You're different from all of us. You were never meant to be caged up like this, I know." 
> 
> "I…" Snufkin coughed into his paw and turned to look up at the window. "I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> snufkin fucks off: the chapter.
> 
> sorry this chapter is a little bit short, especially when you compare it to the other ones. aside from being busy with real life stuff, i was also quite stuck with this chapter and didn't have much planned for it save for the very last part which i obviously had to build up to. can you tell how unprofessional i am?? also i just want to get this chapter out the way so i can move onto the next which i am pretty pumped to write.

The day after ensued as usual, like Snufkin had never left. Of course his mother had scoured him for bruises and scratches, which oddly he only had the minimum off, but he could have gotten more injured in this house than if he had spent the whole night in the woods. 

The windows seemed to be his only comfort. They were tangible gateways to what was outside the suffocating comforts of the house. Snufkin had discovered an actual word for that: freedom. The word tasted like rich fish meat in his mouth, only to leave the most bitter aftertaste as he still longed to achieve it. 

Various times he was caught staring out the window - by the Mymble’s daughter, exclusively. She had watched her little brother perched on the window sill, perfectly like a feline, with a fixed gaze through the stained glass, before deciding it was too worrying and needing to usher him away. “Little grokeling,” she muttered as she manhandled him off the sill. He was getting big. “You should have been in bed hours ago.” 

He never protested as she swaddled him into bed. Dreams scarcely came anyway, and when they did they were filled to the brim with foliage and birdsong. The Mymble’s daughter looked on with worry as Snufkin lay curled in his bed, still very wide awake. She could be thankful that he was no longer digging his claws into her, but she felt as though something was wrong. 

The Mymble’s daughter shook her head to herself as she closed the door to retreat to her own room. 

Exactly a week after Snufkin's expedition, there was a visit to the Moomins again. Words were exchanged. Snufkin didn't care what they were saying - not that he understood much about Moominmamma's situation. All he knew was that she was two months along in - something. 

He had had so many attempts in escaping to the copse outside the bridge that the Mymble had to keep hold of him. She was surprised to find him sit so placidly on her lap. And his claws are not out, she realised. _Perhaps I should try tying up his hair again_. 

Snufkin caught the sound of birdsong in the sky and found himself joining in their song, quietly to himself. But apparently not quietly enough as the adults had suddenly picked up gentle whistling. Moominpappa was impressed. "He's a natural," he mused. 

"He's singing with nature," Moominmamma agreed. 

The Mymble felt proud. How could she not have discovered this before? "Indeed," she muttered, half to herself. "I think I know exactly what to do with this."

And so as they arrived back home - this time Snufkin was held and never let go - she bestowed him with something from a special drawer in her bedroom, laced with deep burgundy spirals like only gifts most dear to her were to be stored in there. But what she gave Snufkin was a peculiar instrument: it was small, rectangular and she dusted it with her wrist before handing it to him. Snufkin took the piece in his paws and closely inspected the many tiny holes at its base. 

"It's my aunt's harmonica," the Mymble explained to him with glee. "She was an enthusiast with those kinds of arts, so she gave it to me before she passed. I never found much use for it until now - and now it's yours, my boy." 

Snufkin gazed with intrigue at this - harmon-y, haronika? - before muttering his thanks and taking it out the room. He met the Mymble's daughter by the doorway, whom told him, "If harmonica is too much of a word, it's also called a mouth organ." 

By her side was Little My, whom seemed to be glaring with disguised jealousy. "I don't know why she gave it to _you_ ," she hissed. "I sing all the time - Mama just thinks my songs are too rude." 

Snufkin stared at her, expression deadpan. "Well, well," he muttered. "You're a surprise." 

He said no more and walked downstairs with Little My staring after him with big eyes. From earshot he could hear her grumbling, "Well, well yourself." 

\--

More days go by. More visits. More fish in platters. More getting trampled by a sea of children. 

Snufkin was feeling helpless. 

His bed felt particularly uncomfortable this night, so he lay on his mattress with the duvet slung to the end, gnawing on his mouth organ, and unsure what to do. Unsure how to play the mouth organ, and unsure how to do satisfy himself. The room was bleached in total dark, save for the faintest inkling of light from the old ceiling lamp at the end of the hallway. The Mymble always kept that light on, no matter the time of day. Said to protect against imps. Perhaps she had forgotten where the light switch was. 

The bed bunk over him creaked and Snufkin had to swallow an annoyed hiss. Had he spend the night in the woods, he would not need to worry about these conditions. Sleeping among many others, beds creaking, thick blankets choking him alive. The sounds of the unknown would be his lullabies, and the only light would be from the moon: whether it was fully waned or merely a sliver. 

Snufkin wrestled himself out of bed and headed for the lone window at the end of the room, carefully passing rows of messily sleeping children. He craned his body to get a faint glimpse and stared outside for what could have been a long five minutes, simply gazing, wondering, yearning. Something twinged inside as he took a good long look at the forest that had once claimed him that night, and then - it became too much to bear. The shadows were calling his name. 

He turned and hurried past the beds, skidding to a halt as he neared his own and found his harmonica on the mattress. It was his first true possession, bestowed to him completely, and it would be a nifty tool to whistle along with the birds. He took the harmonica with as he slid out the door and crossed the hallway.

The closed doors of the Mymble's and his eldest sister's bedrooms passed by as he went for the stairs and he stopped to view them for a few moments. Should he write a note? He thought for a bit, and then shook his head no. It was probably for the best they just forget about him.

Snufkin tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to have them creak, and scoured through cupboards and cabinets for a suitable bag. He didn't know how big he wanted it to be, but he could not just carry his harmonica around all the time. He searched for quite a while in the living room before finally meeting his mother's old backpack caked with dust in a cabinet under her succulent plant collection; back when she used to go _yonder_. She wouldn't be needing this anymore - what, with many children to care for. She likely wouldn't even notice it had vanished. 

Snufkin pulled the bag out and palpated the dust away before zipping it open to place his harmonica inside. He found that inside the bag were an old phone book and a small packet of coffee beans. He took out the book but kept the beans; at some point down the line he could learn how to brew them. Certainly not eat them, they smelled bad anyway. 

Having seemingly all he needed, Snufkin set off. The bag was oversized and heavy on his back - perhaps he did not think this through. No, this was necessary. 

He plodded through the living room and found a window. Trying to squeeze both his bag and himself through would prove itself to be quite tasking, but he found its handle was just within his reach. He set his bag on the floor and clambered up for the handle, but just as it met his paw-

"Snufkin, what are you doing?"

He gasped and fell back down, whirling to face the staircase where he spotted the Mymble's daughter making her way down, clearly have been woken up by the ruckus. Snufkin could only stare back at her as his words became tangled in his throat, suddenly feeling quite bad. Maybe he should have written a letter.

Although the room was in complete blackness, Snufkin could somehow see his sister with perfection. The glint in her eyes told him everything and his eyes meet the floor. "I…" 

She sighed and made her way closer to him, kneeling down to inspect her mother's old backpack. "I never thought I would see this again. I remember when I fell ill, and she packed it full of raspberry leaves." 

Snufkin didn't respond, only keeping his eyes down. The Mymble's daughter stood back up and gazed at him, soft eyes solemn. "I...always knew this would happen at some point," she murmured. "I just didn't know when." 

Snufkin forced his eyes off the floor to meet hers, making a small noise of confusion. His sister's sad smile seemed to show itself in the darkness. "You're different from all of us. You were never meant to be caged up like this, I know." 

"I…" Snufkin coughed into his paw and turned to look up at the window. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," she assured. "I know this was what you've wanted for a long time, ever since you came back from being lost. You've always wanted your independence." 

She strode past him and opened the window, pushing it out at the widest arch she would muster. Then she picked up the bag and her smile finally met her eyes. "I won't tell Mother about this." 

Snufkin's paws quaked as he gasped softly. He switched looks between her and the window before jumping for the sill, perching at its edge and feeling his eyes become heavy. "...Thank you," he whispered, taking the bag from her. 

He swung to the other side, met by the cool breeze of the night, the shadows awaiting. He squeezed his eyes shut as the tears kept threatening through. "I'll… I'll visit."

"Don't feel too obligated." His sister's voice sounded heavy.

He would possibly never hear that voice again. Out of all the children he grew up with, he had only come to like that particular one. "I won't forget you," he promised. 

The Mymble's daughter nodded and lifted a sleeve to mop at her face. "Go now." 

Snufkin obeyed, taking a great leap onto the grass and skirting along the path until he reached wild overgrowth and the slope that led the way back into the woodland. The extreme umbra overtook him and consumed, and this time he took in all of it. He skidded to a halt by the very edge of the forest and gave one final look back to the house that had once caged him, and saw the window still open. He was unsure if his sister was still watching him, but he raised a paw to wave goodbye anyway. And then he turned and fled down the underbrush.

And he never looked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see you space cowboy.
> 
> i hc snufkin and little my always knew they were siblings and their little "well well" exchange from that moominvalley episode is an inside joke they have. i just love them okay. 
> 
> also don't worry this isn't the end of the story, far from it actually. and just a heads up the next chapter will focus more on the present day and is basically just...a break from all the backstory. will it be filler? maybe, but it’ll have some resolve. and fluff. so there’s that.


	7. Interlude I: Dove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moomintroll looked peaceful, and he didn't want to disrupt that. And besides - Snufkin looked out the window - there was something he needed to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy pride month everyone. have a soft gay filler chapter for your heart. it was gonna be longer but i decided to split them into interludes because uhhhh i'm unprofessional as shit. 
> 
> i dunno if you’ve noticed the chapter names but i’ve symbolised them in relation to what the different fish is supposed to represent and if you’ve noticed, this chapter name is now a bird. we’ve moved onto birds. you can probably guess what the symbolism is, i’m very smart. 
> 
> i’ve noticed this fic has over 400 kudos and that’s really crazy holy cow. i still don't know what a kudo is but thanks for much for the support guys! i'm glad yall are liking feral baby mumriks so far.

It took him a short while to notice that Moomintroll had been staring up at him like he were the stars that glimmered brightly before midnight. “Well..?” Moomintroll urged. 

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to tell me what happened next?” 

Snufkin snorted and lifted up his hat to run a paw through his hair. “I don’t know - haven’t you heard enough for one night?” he teased. 

Moomintroll fake gasped in offence and lightly punched his partner on the shoulder. “You’re no fun,” he purred, although understanding the statement. 

Among the hazy hillsides, a faint crackling of dawn was at last beginning to perk, presenting as a soft orange bleeding deep blue into the last remains of night. The day was approaching, and Moomintroll discovered he had been awake all night with Snufkin. He never realised how exhausted he was, now that he was paying attention to how heavily he was blinking. 

He groaned with great pleasure as he stretched out his limbs and shook all the stiffness from his tired body. “‘Suppose I _should_ head to bed before my parents find out I’ve been up all night.” 

Moomintroll used his paw to heave himself up, shaking momentum into his legs that have grown rigid from sitting for Booble knew how long. He glanced down at Snufkin, returning a gentle smile that was being granted to him. Many things were discovered during this exchange, and although there were a great total of things Moomintroll was surprised to have found out about Snufkin, whom he had known for years, there was a sense of odd peacefulness between them. 

“Well then.” Moomintroll clasped his paws together with a yawn. “Thank you for telling me all of this, Snufkin. I’ll… I’ll see you later.” 

But just as he was about to turn back to the house, he was instantly halted by a firm grasp on his paw. “Actually, wait a moment.” Snufkin used his hold on Moomintroll for support as he stood up too. “May I...join you in your bed? I don’t know if I can get any rest out here, and I don’t want to be alone.” 

Moomintroll let out the quietest ‘oh’ and gazed past Snufkin’s shoulder to view his tent, which was having its own brief worship from a display of fireflies. It was odd to hear that from Snufkin; perhaps he was coming down with something. He looked back and beamed kindly at him. “Of course you can.” 

His heart fluttered as Snufkin smiled back: that sweet, subtle curve that seemed to brighten his face. Paw grasped around his, he led the way down the bridge and along the path home. He decided to use the verandah entrance; that way they would make less noise. 

\--

They slept for hours - understandably, after being awake together throughout the entire night, and it took for the sun to inch past its peak in the sky for one of them to finally stir. 

Snufkin came to with a quiet groan, and at first he was promptly startled by the tight spacing and the unfamiliar thickness of the duvet. Then he allowed memories from the night before to slowly ooze in and he sank into the mattress with a long sigh. His eyes wandered around Moomintroll's room, squinting against the sunlight casting through the window as his eyes failed to adjust, and spotted the photo frame of him and Moomintroll together on one of the shelves. He hummed in satisfaction. 

He gently removed Moomintroll's arm from his hip and sat up, gazing down at his partner's sleeping face and resisting the urge to kiss that forehead. Moomintroll looked peaceful, and he didn't want to disrupt that. And besides - Snufkin looked out the window - there was something he needed to do.

As stealthily as he could, Snufkin manoeuvred himself off the bed, unwrapping his tail from Moomintroll's leg as he had just now noticed it. He found his hat hung from the hat board and, as he put it on, quickly moved to thin out the sheets from around Moomintroll - for it was still summer, and the room was positively baking. 

After also finding his shoes he headed for the door. But just then he halted and pressed his ear against it: voices from downstairs. Of course, it was the afternoon. Snufkin didn't feel like having small talk with the parents right now. He turned back and walked towards the window instead, ensuring the ladder was intact, and then opened it as quietly as he could. He looked back at Moomintroll whom was now muttering in his sleep before making his way down the ladder. 

Summer meant longer hours of sunshine but after what seemed like forever sitting in total darkness under the watchful eyes of the stars, it felt somewhat alleviating to see sunlight again. A wise person once told him a new day meant new beginnings, and Snufkin was determined. He reached ground but just as he hopped down, he was instantly met by a voice, 

"Look who's finally up." A familiar little gremlin emerged from the bushes. "Decided not to sleep the whole day away, hm?" 

Snufkin could only smirk at Little My's remark. "Well, well." He put his hands on his hips. "You're a surprise."

"Well, well yourself," she immediately responded, and they chuckled at their little joke. 

"So, what were you doing in Moomintroll's room?" A sneer crossed her face. "I'm guessing the two of you made up then, huh?" 

"Made up?-" Snufkin remembered and then frowned. "Oh, lovely. He didn't tell you what happened, did he?" 

Little My scoffed. "Relax, buddy. In your little boyfriend's defense, I _did_ make him come out with it because as we all know, no one's ever allowed to hurt your feelings but me." 

"Still, you should have better things to do than concerning yourself with matters that don't involve you." 

"What else am I supposed to do? Like, what do you do besides commit crime and go fishing?"

"I'm not sure - but I certainly don't badger you about your relationship with Snorkmaiden."

" _Oi_." 

Had she been taller, Little My would have absolutely maimed him, so she made do with his ankles instead. Snufkin laughed and shook her off, and she landed quite perfectly on her feet. They exchanged more giggles before Little My cleared her throat. "So - the two of you _did_ make up then?"

Snufkin folded his arms. "If you care to know, yes we did."

"Good." She nodded. "I'm happy for you." 

"Thanks."

Little My looked up beyond the ladder, narrowing her eyes. "Well then, aren't you going to wake your sleeping prince, assuming he's still up there? That window is broken, by the way - 'doesn't close properly. Sniff did it."

"I will." He turned and walked for the bridge. "There's just something I need to do first."

"What is it?"

Snufkin tipped his hat in farewell. "None of your business."

Little My made a face. "When is anything _ever_ my business?" But she simply walked in the other direction, tutting and rolling her eyes with a smirk. 

\--

Heavy with sleep, Moomintroll reached out to his side. His paw fell over an empty mattress and he jolted awake at once. "Snufkin?" He wrestled out of the duvet and bolted up. "Snufkin?" 

He jumped out of bed and searched every inch of his room, although he was unsure how Snufkin may have gotten himself under his cupboard. When his room was proven empty, he darted for the door and hurried downstairs. 

"Good morning, dear." Moominmamma's voice made him jump. She was sitting on the sofa, cross-stitching a ripped piece of her husband's pyjama bottoms. "Or - good afternoon, shall I say?" 

"Hm? Oh!" Moomintroll ran a paw through his sweaty forehead. "Er - yes. Good afternoon." 

"Slept in, haven't we?" Moominpappa looked up from his newspaper. "What's gotten you in such a rush?" 

"Um...nothing," breathed Moomintroll. "I'm just… Have you seen Snufkin today?" 

The clicking of his mother's sewing paused. "Oh! Did you two finally make amends?"

Moomintroll nodded. "Yes. We're good now." 

"How splendid," exclaimed Moominpappa. "What did I tell you, Mamma? Our boy can figure out things for himself."

"I never once doubted you, dear." Moominmamma turned back to Moomintroll and gave him a proud smile. "I haven't seen him, but he's probably outside."

"Thanks." Moomintroll rushed for the door and just was about to turn the handle when he was stopped again.

Moominpappa dropped his newspaper to his knees. "Now hold on a second," he called out. "Don't you want breakfast or something? You did miss it, after all." 

"I will later. I just…" Moomintroll trailed off, shaking his head, and put his paw on the handle. "I will later," he repeated, and then he exited. 

Moominmamma beamed and placed the pyjama bottoms to the side. "I'll make some pancakes," she declared, getting up. 

Moomintroll almost stumbled on the way out. As he closed the door behind him, his ears picked up low muttering coming from behind him. He looked back towards the hammock beside the house where the Muskrat was in deep sleep, although lamenting about some indefinite casualty that had become the norm at this point. He gave him an odd look before heading down the slope. 

He turned his head to the bridge where he at last caught sight of Snufkin. His partner was sitting by his tent, seemingly at work of something, but Moomintroll could not see for Snufkin's back was turned to him. He narrowed his eyes. 

Just what was Snufkin doing? Moomintroll began to walk closer to further inspect, but was promptly stopped when he heard his name being called from behind. He looked, and he gasped with delight at the familiar face. "Oh, Snorkmaiden!" 

"There you are, you silly thing!" Snorkmaiden's fluffy arms looped around his shoulders; Moomintroll returned the embrace. "I haven't seen you all morning." 

"Yeah, sorry about that." Moomintroll patted the back of her paw. "Can you blame me, though? It's summer."

Snorkmaiden smirked. "I suppose you're not the only one sleeping in. You're as bad as Snork."

"Oh, right!" He had nearly forgotten she had been absent for a few days from visiting Snork, whom had recently moved residence to the other side of the valley. "How is your brother?"

"Aside from sleeping all the time, he's as busy as always," she responded. "He's making the blueprints for his new flying house contraption - 'says it's going to be the next biggest thing."

"Didn't he say that about the flying boat he built?"

"He says that about _everything_ he builds." Snorkmaiden chuckled to herself and twirled the golden mop of fur atop her head with a finger. "So anyways - I'm wondering if you're free today. Because if so, perhaps we could go to the beach and pick seashells together - if you want." 

Moomintroll blinked, eyes darting from her to the bridge. "Ah - I might be free later," he said. "But um… I'm kind of…" Snorkmaiden followed his gaze towards the end of the bridge where Snufkin's tent was. "...Yeah." 

Snorkmaiden grinned. "Oh, right," she said with some sentimentality. "I sometimes forget how inseparable the two of you can be." She sighed softly and a forlorn expression crossed her brown eyes. "I almost feel bad." 

He put a reassuring paw on her shoulder. "Don't be. It's... my own fault for not being honest with you before." 

"As long as you're happy, I'm happy also." Snorkmaiden's face brightened up again. "And besides, I'm absolutely going to be the maid of honour when you two marry, right?" 

Moomintroll spluttered. "Snorkmaiden, _please_!" 

"What?" Snorkmaiden protested playfully. "Am I not wrong?"

After laughing together for a little while, they each took a gaze back at Snufkin's tent. "Well, I suppose you should go and see what he's up to," murmured Snorkmaiden. "It looks like he's building some kind of leaf boat."

Moomintroll tilted his head. "Hm...yes. I'll see you later then, Snorkmaiden." 

She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. "Bye, bye!" she exclaimed before leaving. 

The water muttered underneath as Moomintroll crossed the bridge. He found Snufkin sitting beside his tent with his back still turned and decided to approach slowly and as stealthily as his form could permit. Once close enough he reached his paws out and covered Snufkin's eyes, stifling his giggling. Snufkin stopped and did not give him time to speak, "Moomintroll, is that you?" 

"Aw, damnit." Moomintroll slipped to sit beside him. "That never works with you." 

Snufkin merely smiled and continued with his little contraption. Moomintroll leaned in close to look at it: it seemed like a leaf boat alright. Snufkin noticed him watching and his smile turned somewhat sad. "I was going to wake you," he said. "After I had finished with it."

"Why are you making a leaf boat?" 

"Could you get me some scorpion grasses?" Snufkin nodded towards the copse behind them. "There should be some growing over there."

"Oh - okay."

 _Scorpion grasses_? Moomintroll got up and wandered to the copse to search around its grounds for any peculiar plants. After a brief search his eyes fell over a patch of little blue flowers, and it was there he realised what they were. _Forget-me-nots_!

Moomintroll picked a whole bunch of them, so much so he could only just hold them all with both paws. It was not until he brought them back to Snufkin when he saw he had picked perhaps a bit too many. So as he bestowed Snufkin with a small pile, he took the rest and scattered them over the rim of Snufkin's hat, ordering them neatly so they made a pleasant bouquet.

Snufkin mewed in surprise and lightly pawed at his hat, beaming as he felt the flowers. "Aww," he said, before turning to his own pile. He took one flower and gently impaled it atop of the small twig that held the leaf like a sail, and then lightly dusted the rest on the cup of the other leaf. He spread them around here and there before sitting up straight in satisfaction 

Moomintroll took a moment to admire the art piece. "It's very pretty," he praised. "What's it for?" 

Snufkin looked dismayed as he looked up at him. "It's a memorial." He picked up the little boat. "For the creep." 

"Oh." Moomintroll felt a dip in his heart as Snufkin got up and walked towards the stream. He followed and sat next to him, watching Snufkin dip a paw into the water and follow the flow of the current with his eyes. 

"I didn't want to go...back there," Snufkin admitted. "And the current is flowing to the right, leading into that forest and close to where it happened. So I thought I could place a leaf boat instead." His eyes dimmed. "It's the best I can do."

Moomintroll patted him on the shoulder. "It's a wonderful idea."

Snufkin withdrew his hat and sat cross-legged on the grass. He lifted the boat above the water and hesitated, taking a deep breath. At last he placed the boat on the surface and held it still to adjust it before releasing and allowing the current to carry it away. The two trolls watched it disappear downstream, Moomintroll keeping his paw on Snufkin's shoulder, and nothing was said for a very long time. 

Finally Snufkin picked up his hat and picked up the few flowers that had fallen off before plucking it back on. He stood up and dusted his dress, Moomintroll quietly followed suit. "Is it too late for breakfast?" he asked. 

Moomintroll shrugged. "Time is a social construct," he pointed out. 

Snufkin snorted a bit. "I was wondering if your mother is making you anything." 

"I could ask her," Moomintroll suggested. "Come." He grabbed hold of Snufkin's paw as he began walking him towards the bridge. "And perhaps later today we can head down to the beach with Snorkmaiden and go shell picking. If you want - to take your mind off things." 

Snufkin beamed softly. "That sounds wonderful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> snufkin: mrrp
> 
> so, this chapter is mainly fluff but it does reveal some things like what is up with moomee and snork maiden and the resolve snufkin feels with the creep. and where the hell snork is i guess.  
> i did a reference of the '72 anime and also the 2019 ver of spring tune although that one's a little subtle.
> 
> there's one more interlude after this and then we see more of baby snuf's feral ventures. once again happy pride!


	8. Interlude II: Owl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand we're back lol. sorry this chapter took so long i honestly have no excuse. i'm just a sad human being.
> 
> anyway watch as i oppress milk.

"I'm afraid we don't have any meat to give, dear." Moominmamma dropped a glass in front of Snufkin. "Will a glass of milk do?" 

“It’ll do fine.” He took the glass in his paws and gave a humble nod. “Thank you.”

He stared inside and tried not to take in its pungent odour; he was never too fond of the smell of milk. From across the table, Moomintroll eyeballed him with a narrowed gaze from behind a plate of five pancakes. Snufkin knew he was questioning his choice in breakfast: for not only was it lacking, but most mumriks are intolerant to lactose. He was among the few that could stomach it, but it would still leave him feeling very foul. 

"But it's only a small glass," Moominmamma objected. "Are you sure you don't want anything else?" 

He nodded again. "You learn to conserve your energy after going vagrant for three months every year. Also, it's odd having breakfast in the afternoon."

“Time is a social construct,” Moomintroll repeated in a sing-song voice as he stabbed utensils into his pancakes. 

Snufkin searched the vacant dining table, occupied by only him and Moomintroll. Moominmamma was hovering around them while Moominpappa was out the back chopping wood and making arrangements for the midsummer bonfire that was soon to proceed this weekend. “Will Little My be joining us?” he asked. 

Moominmamma answered, “She's collecting shells with Snorkmaiden at the beach."

"What?" Moomintroll looked up. "She left without us?" 

"We can always join them later on," assured Snufkin. He stared after him, noticing an odd look to the troll. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine." Moomintroll's eyes followed Moominmamma as she walked to the sofa to resume her knitting of pyjama bottoms. "But have you noticed something weird going on between Snorkmaiden and My?" 

Snufkin sniffed at his glass and then pushed it aside. "What do you mean?" 

"Well, they have been together more often than usual. It kind of reminds me how we are." 

Snufkin pawed the crimsoning away from his face. "As it should be," he meowed. "They are in the early stages of dating after all."

There came a loud spitting noise. "Hold on a minute - what?" Moomintroll's eyes were massive. "Really?" 

Moominmamma looked up from the sofa. "Did you really not notice, dear?" 

"No! I never thought it would be a thing that is told outright!" Moomintroll glanced down at Snufkin whom was now sniggering into his paws. "What?" He turned as his mother began guffawing too. " _What_?!"

The laughing continued for a few more seconds, with Moomintroll looking on with a look of protest before deciding to join in at the final moments. Snufkin rested a paw on his shoulder. "You should take notice of things more often." 

"Sorry that I'm oblivious," Moomintroll said with a dramatic head tilt, before giving Snufkin a devious smile. 

With a flip of Pappa’s ripped pyjamas, Moominmamma changed the subject, “Moomintroll dear, if it’s not too much of a hassle, Pappa does need some extra paws in chopping up the firewood for the midsummer bonfire. You can also help, Snufkin - if you’re not too busy.”

“Gladly.” Thinking about Moominpappa perked some kind of thought within Snufkin. He considered it for a moment, and then pushed his chair back. “Do you mind me using the bathroom, though?”

“Of course not.” Moominmamma returned to her knitting, and Snufkin got up from his chair. 

Moomintroll forked some more pancakes into his mouth. “Aren’t you going to finish your milk?” he asked with his mouth full.

Snufkin smiled at him. “No.”

\--

Snufkin had to ensure Moominpappa was indeed chopping wood outside before entering his study. He navigated around with caution, stopping for a second as a book labelled _Scarves for Nummulites_ along its spine briefly caught his curiosity, and then found Moominpappa’s desk among an incredulous number of disarrayed book piles. The many-paged manuscript for Moominpappa's memoirs lay in both scatters and tightly fixed piles at the back of the desk, and Snufkin thought very carefully before approaching.

His eyes fell on the first page; details of the great pink cloud happenstance from a week ago. Snufkin moved his paws to a page buried below a scatter of many; Moomintroll's eighteenth birthday. He wondered how Moominpappa was able to keep all these papers together - he should invest in a binder. 

Snufkin reached out to the more neat piles and lifted a bulk of papers to view a page at random. Some mentions of a flood - that was long ago, but not long enough. He pried his paw further down the pile-

"Now, what do we have here?" He squeaked in surprise and bristled. "We're not snooping, are we?" 

"Oh - Moominpappa!" Snufkin quickly bent down to pick up a piece of paper that had fallen from the desk, placing it exactly where he had found it. 

Moominpappa walked closer. "No need to make a fuss there, lad," he assured. "Are you looking for something?" 

"I…" Snufkin searched the desk. "Yes, I am, actually." He cleared his throat and turned to face him. "Do you still have your memoirs from when you were at the Oshun Oxtra?"

"Oh!" Moominpappa's face lit up. "Why - of course I do!" He sauntered to the wardrobe and creaked it open, catching an old globe in time before it would fall and shatter. He reached up to place the globe on top of the wardrobe before rummaging about and pulling out a dusty old binder. 

Snufkin raised his eyebrows. So he _had_ invested. Moominpappa gazed at the binder with pride, as though it were a glistening trophy. "I always keep those memories in a special place; would not trade them for a thing." He held the binder to his chest and whirled around. "Anyway, what do you need from them?" 

"Um…" Snufkin folded his arms and leaned back against the chest, feeling his chest well. "I just got thinking and… I wish to learn more about my father." 

Moominpappa fell silent. Snufkin glanced up. "I remember you mentioning it to me when I was very young," he murmured. "I didn't really give it much thought because I never met him but… You did used to tell us stories about him." 

"I see." Moominpappa sighed and adjusted his hat. "Well - one thing you should know is that I also said the Joxter _could_ be your father. I truly have not seen hide nor hair of him since before I met Mamma." 

"Yes, I know." Snufkin suddenly began to feel sad. "But I did start to wonder that if he were my father, would there be a malicious reason for choosing to be out of the picture." 

"Oh no! The Joxter is not a malicious fellow." Moominpappa walked beside him and slapped the binder open, licking through several pages. "He is an eccentric lad but his heart is always in the right place. My best guess is that he is simply following the mumrik way - fathers don't tend to stay around their own kittens for very long." 

His paw stopped at a page. "That, and he did not have the greatest upbringing, your father. He grew up on a dairy farm and had controlling parents whom were constantly at each others' throats. There is a reason why mumriks don't tend to live in family groups, and so the Joxter had enough and booked it the second he could." 

Snufkin nodded along, then paused as something hit him. "Wait, how do you know so much about the Joxter? He strikes me as the one to not tell much." 

He caught on Moominpappa's hesitation to answer and a sad paw trailing along the many paragraphs of the old writings. He looked away, tail drooping. "Was he special to you?" he asked carefully. 

"Quite." Moominpappa sighed. "I seemed to have forgotten all about him when I met Mamma, until you came along and…" He met Snufkin's eyes. "I know I said he could be your father but I must say, you are the spitting image of him."

"Do you think he would have loved me?" mewed Snufkin. "If he stayed?" 

"I don't doubt it for a single second," answered Moominpappa, eyes locked down again as he became entranced on the many documented adventures of his youth. "As a matter of fact, I do have a souvenir of his he may have wanted to pass onto you." 

He slipped away from the desk and scoured inside the wardrobe again. Snufkin walked towards the open binder and peered at the few pages, eyes falling at the flowery descriptions of the Joxter and Moominpappa embarking on a sign-stealing anarchy quest together. He smiled warmly, trying to picture Moominpappa as a young lad sprinting behind the Joxter's heels with torn up signs on his shoulder. It reminded him of the time he had attempted to jump the fence with Moomintroll, but Moomintroll had ended up getting caught and Snufkin had to bust him out of prison while Moomintroll was forced to write _I shall not walk on grass_ a hundred times. Snufkin had to shower him with affection before his apology could be accepted. 

"Here it is." Moominpappa walked back with something enclosed in his paw. "The Joxter had given this to me - said it would be a gift for someone special. But since you're here now, you might deserve it more than me."

He set his paw on the table and opened it up, and out dropped a large, sharp bronzed tooth. Snufkin stuck out his tongue a bit as he tilted his head. "It's a shark's tooth," explained Moominpappa. "I don't know why or how he had it, he never told me and I never asked, but it was apparently very dear to him. He carried it around everywhere he went, and he thought _I_ was dear enough to be bestowed it." 

The tooth glinted unnaturally in the raw afternoon sunlight that pierced through the window. "But I figure since you're here now, you may be better off with it. I know you're not one for possessions but as he's... your father…" 

Snufkin stared at the tooth with narrowed eyes. "Are you sure you don't want it?" 

"Of course I want it," Moominpappa said. "But you deserve it more than I do. You have gone through your whole life knowing little to nothing of your father, and it may be the one thing that gives you the closure you've always needed." 

Snufkin looked on for a few more seconds, then decided he knew better than to keep going back and forth with it. "Alright then." He picked up the tooth and pocketed it. "Thank you, Pappa." 

"No worries, my good lad," Moominpappa finally beamed. "And I suppose it's worth keeping in mind that even without it, you will still always have us in Moominvalley. You have been treating my Moomintroll very well and if I were to be blunt, you have my blessing." 

"Blessing..?" Snufkin gasped and covered his hat over his face. "Oh, Moominpappa, not again!" 

Moominpappa bellowed with great enthusiasm. "As a matter of fact, I encourage it! All we need to do now is track down the Joxter so Moomintroll could have _his_ blessing as well." 

"Yes, well, let's focus on that, then." 

They laughed together for a short while until Moominpappa was the first to break it by turning and walking back to his bookshelf. "Now there was an actual reason I came up here… Ah ha!" He pulled out a book that detailed the husbandry of burning pine wood, and then turned back to Snufkin. "Did you find everything you were looking for in here?" 

Snufkin glanced down his dress and patted at the pocket that held the shark's tooth, smiling a bit to himself. "Yes," he replied. "I did."

\--

An hour or so passed, and Snufkin followed Moomintroll down to the beach where they would find Snorkmaiden and Little My picking seashells together, and Moomintroll had yet to be spared from his misery - although he likely would have saved himself from it had he not bombarded them with the question the moment he met up with them. 

Snorkmaiden giggled softly into her paw while Little My regarded him with folded arms and a raised eyebrow. "Seriously, Moomintroll," she huffed. "I did not take you for the oblivious type." 

"Call it basic decency," he protested. "Something _you_ seem to be a little short of." 

"Don't worry about it, dear." Snorkmaiden took Moomintroll's paws in her own, earning him a cheeky smile. "Sometimes we are unable to see things that are right under our noses." 

Snufkin took off his hat and ran a paw through his hair as it began to sweat from the scorching heat. "I suppose having a large nose comes with its many downs."

Moomintroll shook his paws away from Snorkmaiden's grasp. "You lot are so mean to me!"

The rest of the afternoon was spent with the four of them enjoying each others' company on sun-kissed sand and under clear skies, dipping paws in the icy ocean water and foraging for shells and archaic artifacts at the coastline, and then discovering a strange cave by the cliffs before finding it was occupied by a particularly cranky antlion. 

Time was seeming to fly away from them and Snufkin found himself feeling oddly content. Perhaps it was from the closure of earlier that afternoon, or the fact that he was now nuzzling with Moomintroll under a honeyed sun after having such a stressful, rocky day before. But he tried not to think about that. 

He always liked how bright, baby blue Moomintroll's eyes appeared under a bright sun. It was like the ocean. Perhaps even more beautiful. 

The sky was bleeding into a pale milky canopy and bleaching the clouds pink by the time it may be considered evening, although summer meant longer days, and the air was growing thicker. Snorkmaiden and Little My had already said their goodbyes and off they went up the cliffs and to the valley, whereas Moomintroll said he would join them later once he could find out where Snufkin went off to. 

Snufkin sat on top of a large rock by the coastline and watched the waves crash underneath him, and allowing his eyes to drift further and further out at the ocean until it would get engulfed by the pale sky. He reached a paw into his pocket and pulled out the shark's tooth, thankful he had not lost it somewhere at the beach. His eyes drifted forward again and he began to wonder about the Joxter and where he could be - if he was even still alive. He could be anywhere, and yet he could also be nowhere.

Moomintroll found Snufkin on the rock and climbed up to join him, crawling at his side and glancing down at the tooth on his open palm. He frowned as he went into thought. "Is that a shark tooth?" he asked, and Snufkin's shoulders went up. "Where did you get that? I don't remember there being sharks in Moominvalley." 

Where _did_ the Joxter get it? Snufkin may never know the answer to that question. He closed his palm and lowered his paw. "Your father gave it to me," he replied. "It belonged to the Joxter."

"Oh." Moomintroll sat up. "You think he could be your dad?" He decided not to mention that he too got the heads-up from two nights ago. 

"It's possible." Snufkin sighed and stared out into the ocean again. 

Moomintroll allowed his feet to dangle over the edge. "It seems to go out forever," he murmured as he followed his gaze. "He could be out there, you know. Maybe boarding a ship or something." 

Then he smiled to himself, tail swishing. "Or he could be terrorising a family of park keepers, like from Pappa's stories. Do you think they expand their businesses beyond Moominvalley?" 

"They do," said Snufkin with certainty. 

"Oh?" 

Snufkin met his eyes and pocketed the shark's tooth again. "You want to hear more?" he requested. "About what happened after I left home?" 

Moomintroll would have jumped at the chance, but he knew better. He straightened himself and took in the surrounding area, knowing he may not be leaving for a while. The crashing of waves was growing more gentle by the minute and the sun was beginning to slow its descent behind the sea. Soon, it would be a marvelling sight. 

He gazed back at him. "If you want to." 

Snufkin smiled and placed a paw over Moomintroll's, taking a deep breath before thinking back and finding the right words to articulate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> divulgence and misty hillsides are on completely different universes from each other and that's wack as shit


	9. Buzzard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then he remembered he had no place to sleep. He had no home to go back to - he could not remember the way back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey..... this is still a thing apparently lul. i have no excuse why i keep pulling off on this, i do aim to finish this, i am just an indecisive fool and also just busy with life stuff. and i decided to just finish this really short chapter on a whim because honestly. just take the fucking shot. 
> 
> anyway baby (kitten) time.

A day into his routeless expedition into the unknown, and Snufkin realised just how severely unprepared he was. 

First of all, he had nowhere to sleep. That was to be expected when adapting to a vagrant life, but he had to get accustomed by raiding animal dens, hoping nobody was inside, or sleep under thickets if the inhabitant was not too happy with sharing a bed. Sometimes he would sleep under bushes from peoples' gardens, and flee as soon as day broke or else he would meet the end of a broom. For he had learned quite early on that young mumriks are considered vermin to some. 

The next crucial detail was that finding food was near impossible. He was to never set claws near a creature again, and eating anything other than meat made his stomach churn with horribleness, so he made do with any scraps or already-dead creatures he could find. He once went through a whole day without eating, and it was scary. That was until he passed a green lake and practically bathed in it. He stank for days but it felt better to have his strength returned.

It was a week into aimless wandering when he came across the first civilisation since home: a small, compact village. Sticking around the hedges, he had sniffed at a dead crow and seeing the few flies that had made home in its feathers, decided it was too risky to indulge in. He glanced across at the village down the hill, and realised he had no choice. 

The village was mainly inhabited by hemulens, and although there was a curiosity to see them up-close, Snufkin chose to keep his distance. He found himself sneering with distaste at those tight walls, keeping their owners in, confining them in their wombs. 

Except not every creature was indoors; he was stopped by several souls that were worried for him. A tiny child equipped with nothing but an oversized bag would halt any passerby.

He passed a young couple walking by the path. They stopped to look at him. "Dear," murmured one of them, a fair-haired rat lady. "Are you lost?" 

"No," he responded before continuing on his way. The couple simply stared after him. 

The second of the couple, a darker rat, turned to her life companion. "A mumrik?" she asked. 

"Pests," responded the lady with a curl to her lip. 

That was another issue. Although knowing kittens were troublesome to some, Snufkin had failed to realise the attitude associated with his own species among the village folk. Mumriks are responsible for the endangerment and even extinction of several species of forest critter, with rumours broadening as far as blaming them on the extinction of the common water dragon. Whether it was true or not is up for debate, but many of them did fall victim when mumriks took to river hunting. 

Regardless, Snufkin was unaware of how wary he had to be. Leaving the two rat ladies to stare after him as he continued up the beaten path, he was catching the attention of a few more passerbys, whom were all prizing him with looks of distaste. There were mutters of calling the “council” - whatever that meant. Snufkin just wanted to find a way out of this village. 

But he must have wandered aimlessly for hours; when he finally gave in to the bag feeling extremely heavy against his back and slinging it off so he could catch his breath, he discovered the sun to be setting behind the distant mountains. The sky was bleeding into a sleepy looking orange and all of a sudden there was an urge to curl up under some bed sheets and continue his adventures in his dreams. Then he remembered he had no place to sleep. He had no home to go back to - he could not remember the way back. 

Snufkin ambled about for a few more minutes before deciding he would spend the night under a large mulberry brush that was crowning outside a low brick fence of somebody’s back garden. Using his bag to up himself over the fence, he slid it under the bush and crawled inside. His bag like a cushion, he curled up and folded his tail over his nose. He was out cold before he knew it. 

The next morning he woke up with a dreadful feeling; like he knew his hiding place had been spotted, despite the close confinement of the thick branches. He stirred, the leaves creaking above his head, and before he could find the bravery to poke his head from the bushes, he was seized. A gloved paw shot through the branches and grabbed him by the collar, pinning him down against his stomach. Snufkin squealed and attempted to twist around to maim his attacker, but they had a good hold on the scruff of his neck. 

Before he knew it he was being forced out of the bush, and there he met eyes with the ugliest hemulen he had ever seen. He hissed and spat as the hemulen readjusted his grasp on him. “Feisty little thing, ain’t ye?” he said in his horrible colonising accent. “Think you can just sleep in people’s gardens though, do ya?” 

He leaned below the bush to pull out his bag, and at this point Snufkin considered gauging the hemulen’s eyes. “Travellin’, I see.” The hemulen picked up the bag and slung it around his arm. “Well, since you’re comin’ with me, figure I may as well take this too.”

“ _No_!” Snufkin mauled at the hemulen’s deep mauve clothing and reached out for his bag. The hemulen passed him onto his other arm and grasped his scruff again. 

“You’re payin’ for the damages,” he scowled. “And hopefully where you’ll be goin’, you’ll be shaped to do exactly that.”

As he began carrying him over the fence, Snufkin twisted around and managed to nip at his gloved paw. The hemulen yelped and readjusted his grip on time just as he would have dropped him. He groaned and held him tautly against his chest. “Little shit,” he muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the reason why snufkin never gave a shit about the dragon is because mumriks drove them to near extinction anyway so he was like heohohoooo what
> 
> he's being taken to hell. where hopefully actual plot happens. now excuse me while i write another fic where he's rabid.


End file.
